April 7, 1999: Allergic to spring
My nose is stuffed—all glued together by green pollen; it’s as if snow has fallen. Tired! I’ve become, all sleepy eyed and cranky—like a lonely old man, unlike a cheerful self who can breathe. My eyes are watering, all wet, the corners are sore. Unlike Betty Davis, Pierce Brosnan or a cute puppy. My complaining factor is up—all sprite and quite edgy. Like PMS but in a male way, unlike cranky bill paying day. My nose is stuffed! It’s running like syrup set upside down. It’s so unlike me, not to get up and get a Kleenex. Nope! I’d rather complain, moan and frown.