Anyone that lives in the mid to north Atlantic region knows that we’ve had no spring…just one long, redundant, monotonous, giant, fairly mild, slightly annoying winter. In the New York/Connecticut/New Jersey section, we bore easily. We need variety or at the very least, seasons that can hold our attention. When winter lasts six solid months, we tend to zone out which leads to things like bad attitudes and inordinately high taxes and an overabundance of toll roads and false promises from our governors. Oh wait we already have that. Nevermind.
This year, allergy season in New Jersey has started approximately in February. This has lead to bingeing on large doses of Claritin and sniffling like a cocaine-laced stock broker in an Oliver Stone mockumentary which always ironically seems to have little fact and a lot of political leanings. I have counted 16 sneezes since 9AM and I’m pretty sure my nosy neighbor has too. She’s probably on the phone with Oliver Stone now elaborating on the tone and timber of said sneezes. She left a post it note on my door stating that I was out of mustard and should probably buy more Persil since there’s a sale at ShopRite.
Every member of my family is stuffed up, including my dog and none of us have seen an end in sight. Just when we’re about to cave and run to the doctor (the dog caved first) and beg for mercy, the symptoms will ebb for about two days. It never lasts. Since I am an old fashioned and delicate flower, I usually carry hankies. Embroidered hankies – like your grandmother used to chase you around with when you had a boogie nose. I literally have dozens of them that I usually have safely stowed in my purse. Regardless of constant rain (I am never moving to Seattle) there has been no break in the allergy cycle and it’s reached a point in that I perpetually have one tucked in each sleeve, in pockets, maybe even each bra cup. You gotta do what you gotta do. I’d rather not walrus my way through to July when all the pollen finally recedes so I try to keep it classy.
What I think I look like is a cross between Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada and Maggie Smith in full Edwardian regalia with a touch of Sophia Loren to account for some extra va-va-boom delicately dabbing her nose with an embroidered hanky. In my head I am that delicate flower. In reality?
I’m not sure if this is me doing my civic duty to make y’all feel better about your life choices….but you’re welcome.