Can I honestly still be sick? Is this really happening? Am I going to be blowing my nose for the rest of my life? Seriously. It's not even funny anymore. I'm starting to think I pissed off some allergy god somewhere and he has struck me down to suffer for all eternity. I am almost excited about the winter coming so everything will be dead and bare. Maybe then I can go a day without using up an entire box of tissues. I mean, granted... I haven't really been taking anything. My Allegra-D just doesn't cut it anymore but I didn't want to take anything else because I still have half a bottle of pills in my medicine cabinet. It's probably like eating Luden's cherry cough drops to me now. (I used to love those things so much. That would always be the candy I picked out in the drugstore on the way home from Church with my grandparents on Sundays... because I grew up in the 50s.) I had a big plan to buy Zyrtec and vitamins last night on my way home from work but of course I forgot. Maybe I can get down to Duane Reade some time today and pick some up.
I'm sure this is literally the most thrilling thing you've read all week. You can thank me in person the next time you see me.
I'm reading "The Stand" right now, in which a deadly plague starts out as the common cold. Maybe I should stop reading it and see if I get better. "The Dark Tower" started coming to life around me; why shouldn't this novel do the same? Maybe I won't stop reading though, because if I did, and suddenly felt better, I may not be able to be friends with Tom anymore.
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