There is a cat that lives in a garden behind my eyes.
Around the garden is a hedge of purple allergy bushes, which are apparently very popular in landscaping.
Beyond that hedge is an endless field of tall grass.
And once per day, some jerk comes out into the garden with a spray bottle in each hand and gently mists everything with Fantastic and Febreze.
I never used to be allergic to anything. But apparently one can develop allergies, and somewhere around the age of twenty-two, that’s what I did.
Cats are magnetically attracted to people who can’t pet them, besides which their fur and dander are on absolutely everything, so it’s best not to go to houses where they live. This is fairly easily done, although it does interfere with my social life somewhat.
Highly scented cleaning products are a bit more of a problem, but my workplace uses them sparingly, so I get by.
My biggest issue is seasonal allergies, which hit for a couple of months in the late spring and early summer. When the pollen is bad I sneeze frequently, and my eyes feel not just itchy, but gritty, like they’ve been coated in it. I’m pretty convinced that it would feel awesome if I could just take my eyes out for a few minutes, and rinse them in the tap under a nice flow of cool water. Other people have advised against doing this, so I’ve refrained — but every year it seems like a better idea.
Until last year I’d never found an allergy medicine that I could take; the more common ones have the same effect on me as cough syrup, which is that after three to five doses I start hearing a creepy music box. . . and then my vision blacks out and I wind up on the floor. After the third time that happened I gave up on allergy medication, and just relied on eye drops and swearing. Then someone recommended I try Chlor-Tripolon; it is non-non-drowsy so I can only take half a pill once a day, but it provides some relief and I don’t hallucinate on it, so that’s good.
Allergy season is coming very soon. I thought I should write about it while it’s still hypothetical, and I can still find humour in it.
And before I take out my eyes.