I suffer from seasonal allergies. From the end of August to the end of September I am one miserable bitch. How can I illustrate this so that you get the magnitude of my suffering?
Oh, yes. That will do nicely.
Thing is, last night I went to bed all smug because it’s the end of August and I hadn’t sneezed but a few times. “Dude! It looks like it’s going to be an easy season,” I told Jack.
I spoketh too soon. This morning I can’t. Stop. Sneezing. And sniffling. And honking. And snorting.
In the words of Fat Bastard, “I’m dead sexy!”
Damn you, seasonal allergies!! Damn. You.
Right behind you, with four smaller versions right behind me. Mercy. Darn farm boy husband . . . no allergies. Hmph!
We (me & M)…sniffle, sneeze, and shnort right with ya!