I don't know how many days in a row this is now, but it feels bad. My eyes are blood-shot red, my nose is heavy, like a weight pulling the rest of my face with it, and my throat's scratchy, as though I've eaten a pinecone.
Let's get the obvious questions out of the way then, shall we?
1. Yes, this morning. Doesn't seem to do anything other than make me feel worse.
2. No, but if it carries on, I'll probably have to. Who would have thought it?
3. Middle of June, so hopefully next week.
I thought I'd go to the cafe to see if eating something could help, and maybe improve my mood a bit. It turns out, it makes it worse - eating makes you breathe through your nose, and when you can't do that because your nose is constantly blocked, a spoonful of granola tastes like paper that's been left out in the rain.
I really don't like this season. I know people have it a lot worse, I know I'm painting myself into a martyr by lamenting my sufferings and describing my mucus, and I know, that's the wrong side of pathetic. I am sorry about that.
Nonetheless, I'm struggling to be normal, to breathe normally, that most basic of human functions, the thing we all learn first.
Instead, red-eyed and purple-nosed from coarse tissue, I'm going around panting with my mouth open, looking like a bleary Jabberwock: manxome, with eyes of flame, burbling through the tulgey wood, and half-ready to take the vorpal sword in hand, myself, and slice my own nose off.
I think though, I should probably just get on with life, and if it gets worse, I'll have to get some medical help.
Callooh callay.
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