Too Much Perfection?

For the second day, we are finally receiving rain! I am so grateful for it. Hopefully the thick yellow coating of pollen will be washed away to a near-manageable level. I don't know for certain if it has been particularly bad this year, or if I'm simply more aware of it since I've had to listen to DH's sniffling and snuffling and generally looking like he picked up a heroin addiction sometime around the beginning of spring. Either way, I want the icky shit gone.

Not because it bothers me, mind you, simply because the whole allergy thing with DH is akin to a mancold that never gets any better. No, I do not have allergies. After years and years as a child of hearing the doctor declare, "It's just her allergies." every freaking time I had a sniffle or a headache, I finally broke down and made an appointment with an Allergist a few years ago, despite my fear of needles.

For those that don't know of my many quirks, one of them is being touched on the underside of my forearm. It absolutely fuhreaks me out and makes me feel like I could rocket through the ceiling in attempt to escape the touch. It is that bad. And the forearm is exactly where they administer the test punctures to check for allergies. It was a horrible experience, but I was desperate for a solution to my headaches and since I'd heard over and over and over how my allergies were the true culprit, I knew I had to be tested if I were ever going to find relief.

So I was.

And I found out that I am allergic to...





Nothing.



Yep, that's right. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing.

I wasn't sure whom to strangle first, the nurse that administered the useless test, the allergist that ordered the test, or all of the doctors that had declared me to have allergies. Fortunately for them, I couldn't decide so I've put it off. I am a procrastinator, you know.

But their day is coming. Eventually.