I love the changing of seasons as much as I love enemas! Spring has finally arrived in sunny South Africa, flowers are blooming, animals are horny and procreating and I am suffering. You see, I am one of those unfortunate people who are allergic to spring. The few weeks before the first summer rain is as torturous to me as having to listen to an arduous speech by my favorite closeted homosexual Mrs Robert Mugabe. Between red, tearing and itchy eyes and an Olympian runny nose, I am left to ponder just how many antihistamines one person can consume befor you die.
My week started off like so many others. Monday morning my alarm goes off, still yearning for the weekend I snooze it and doze off. Forty minutes later the little voice in the back of my head rouses me and with a shock I realize instead of pressing snooze on my alarm I switched it off. I overslept and was late once again (for some peculiar reason punctuality eludes me these days and I’m starting to feel guilty). I fly out of bed and make my way to the bathroom where another rude awakening awaits me. As I look into the mirror I see a face I hardly recognize. Staring back at me is a puffy red eyed monster with snot dripping from his nose. I went to bed a fairy and woke up a troll!
Having seen this face before my biology confirmed the start of spring and with a sigh I surrender myself to what’s to come. Every year this time it happens and every year I forget to prepare, this is one of those lessons I am incapable of learning it seems. With nothing in our medicine cabinet to alleviate any of my symptoms I make my way to work feeling shit and hoping by the time I reach my office there would be some improvement. Optimism has never served me well.
When my colleague, with whom I share an office, greeted me I could sense some awkwardness about being less than 5 meter away from the troll. Being polite she noticed my transformation but didn’t point it out or laughed. After several hours watching my snot fest and painful looking eyes she finally had enough of it. She promptly reached into her makeup bag, whipped out a compact mirror, shoved it in my face and forcefully said “Look at yourself, go to the pharmacy and go home!” In light of the fact that I think she can be quite a scary bitch if you piss her off (which I have not done nor plan to) I complied.
Armed with a packet of antihistamines, a nasal spray and a small prayer I made my way home. Three antihistamines later, feeling quite drowsy, light headed and a bit trippy I strolled through our garden wonderland. Escorted by my three cats the perfume of blossoms surrounded us with the sweat smell of hell. Watching the bees toil away, the birds chirping while building their love shacks and others having sexy time I was profusely jealous that instead of basking in the glory of spring I was drowning in it.
Tuesday came and went with a blur. Wednesday I was feeling better believing that my little yellow pills did their magic. Again my optimism screwed me and neither of us had an orgasm. This morning I woke up and the troll was back three times over. “Spring damn you! Damn you to hell!” I barely made it out of the house and arrived at the office an hour late. Never drink four antihistamines! Looking like the hay-fever fairy that got raped by Shrek’s evil brother and feeling liked tripped out Barbie with a hangover, I could barely string together a coherent sentence. However, I managed to read my e-mails, cancel a meeting and drove my snot ball home. By noon I had already taken another two yellow placebo duds, washed down with a two large glasses of sparkling water praying for death to be swift. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling spring of years past flashed before my eyes as I drifted off into an antihistamine induced slumber.
This afternoon I was gently stirred to consciousness by the rough caress of my cats tongue as she was licking my eye brows. Quite a queer way to wake up as I was dreaming a drag queen was trying to sand them down. Awake I was feeling better and almost human again. The troll was slowly disappearing and the fairy almost restored. Spring is not a fun time of year for me; my allergies flare up like an uncontrollable forest fire. Every year it’s the same thing and every year 1-3 weeks of hay-fever plagues me. Even though I feel like crap I still rejoice the end of winter, appreciate the beauty of new growth and find awe in the birth of new life. Yes, spring puts me through hell but I would hate it more to miss it.
Till next time.
Fergie - Fergalious Parody (Trannylicious)