Jinxes. I hate 'em.
I hate when I stay stupid shit that seems tailor-made to bite me square in the ass, or in this case the sinuses. The dumbass declaration du jour reads as follows: "I've mostly outgrown my allergies. Not nearly as bad as when I was a kid." Oh, have you outgrown them Mr. Bigmouth von Weisenheimer? Clearly not. The mighty power of Loratadine in the form of non-drowsy Wal-itin seems no match for this nasal drip-drip-drip. Viva Pollen Nation!
Now, I don't mind when I bring this upon myself. When, for instance, knowing my predisposition to swell and snort in the presence of feline dander, I still manage to spot a cat, pet it, pick it up, and rub my eyes with it. Mmmm. Soft and purry. The results are particularly hysterical when I have contacts in. Those two-week disposal Acuvues are amazing. They are breathable, but still lock in allergens for maximum red- and puffiness. But I can accept said acts of my own (repeated) stupidity. How many gorgeous Spring days will be ruined by these acts of airborne assiness? When will the mold stop sporing? The floral fornication finish? Probably when I shut up about it.