Every Year, it Hits Me Like a Truck

A few years ago I read one of Lance Armstrong's autobiographies, and I will likely never forget the passage in it when he talked about living in Austin, and having to train here without using any allergy medication because it apparently screwed with any drug testing conducted at the races. He talked about how all year round there was a constant barrage of various allergies, and how terrible it could be at times.

Boy, can I relate.

(Well, I can relate about the allergies and how much they absolutely suck... not about the races or drug tests.)

Cedar fever. Some years I can handle it... others it's worse. In one morning I went from Happily Confident in my Own Appearance to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. I have a drippy nose like a leaky faucet, and it absolutely sucks. Drip, drip, drip. I've opened a completely new box of tissues and been carting it around today in a large purse while I babysat (luckily, an easy job) and cheered on the Longhorns to their victory. (Go Horns! Way to wrap it up, though you sucked in the first half, by the way.)

It could be worse, I suppose. I could have the flu like last year. I could have a stuffy nose, instead of a drippy one. (At this point though, I would rather have the stuffy nose. At least a stuffy nose doesn't require constant tissue attendance. Although... Fates? That was not an invitation to send me a cold.)

I look forward to tomorrow, where the pollen count will apparently be lower, and so my sudafed dosage will be proportionally lower. Well, here's hoping.