I looked up the pollen forecast. VH.
You can forget about breathing when the count is VH. VH means stay indoors, don't look at the sun, buy a huge box of tissues, remember the good old days.
Unfortunately I have to be at work.
I'd forgotten that lovely feeling of a noseblow having no effect whatsoever. How delightful. You pop your ears while trumpeting your face into a kleenex. Your cheeks are red, and you're a little bit dizzy from the effort, yet your nostrils remain just as clogged as they were before you started.
I took two antihistamines today. No more than the usual drowsiness, thankfully, but I do wonder what good they do. It's hard to tell on VH days.
I'm also, once again fascinated by the effect of sleep on hay fever. There is a definite time-delay between waking up and the pollen kicking in. I'd say it's under a minute, but I'll time it tomorrow. This morning, I woke up breathing perfectly, then my nose twitched, then the air went tingly, then I sneezed and we were off again. I reached out to my bedside table and before I knew it, two tablets were guzzling their way into my blood stream.
"What is it that you've taken, Matt, just so I know in case you've overdosed?" asked Erica when I got in and made a fuss about it.
"Cetirizine hydrochloride," I replied without thinking. I'm hoping the side-effects aren't too serious - though this particular drug does affect my digestive system.
Meanwhile, outside the grass is taunting me. It's waving in the sunshine, ruffled by a cool English breeze, high on life and spreading its seed in every way it was always designed to. VH day for the grass too, then. Brilliant.
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