Until early last week, that is.  The temperature rose, the leaves began to bud,  weeds arose in the yard, along side the greening of the grass. 

And the neon yellow coat began.  The sickening powder the covers, without prejudice, everything in its path.  Cars,  yards, railings, any surface that is anything less than completely vertical must withstand its havoc. 

Yes, you know what I mean, pollen.  Massive amounts, almost sand storms of pollen.  The entire universe is covered in disastrous amounts of this horrid, powdery substance.  That is what doesn't find its way into my nasal cavities and sinuses, causing me to become this phlegmy running, Rudolph nosed, red eyed, scary creature. 

I'm miserable.  Horrendously so.  My nose is raw from the constant dabbing, my throat aches from being coated in a combination of mucous and pollen, my head feels like someone has plugged all the holes and is pumping in massive amounts of air.  When I'm not sneezing, I'm coughing.  When I'm not coughing, I'm whining.   

I hate this time of year.  I despise this part of spring where any whiff of the great outdoors turns me into grumpy, itchy, wheezing being.  If all that wasn't bad enough, today the grass was mowed in our yard.  An acre full of grass and pollen and weeds.  All of which my body thinks are miniature Lucifers meant only to damn me to hell. 

I am pitiful.  I have Claritin, I have Sudafed, I have Ibuprofen, I have cough drops.  I'm still a mess.  Our weekend, which was supposed to consist of going to the Opera, ended up with Tony studying and me roll around the bed, in various contortions trying to figure out which position would slow the drainage. 

Now, I'm wide awake, nose still running, wishing I could go to sleep.  I want to be snuggling with my husband not fighting these stupid allergies.  I spent so much time in bed, though, that I'm surprised I don't have bed sores.   

Of course, I'll wish away spring, so, I can hasten summer and the heat and humidity, I can't be happy where we our season wise, can I?  If only it were Fall, every day of the year.  There's nothing better than late Autumn,  when the leaves are in their brilliant colors, the air is cooler, the days are shortening, and were far away from the evils of spring. 

Except for ragweed that is.  Why do I always forget about ragweed? 
Suzy