Today I did get out of the house, although only moderately successfully - my original plan was to spend all day at work. I didn't get there until 2pm, and then when there were only two other cars in a parking lot made for many hundreds of people, it all got a bit creepy, so I just grabbed my computer and came back home.
But while I was out, my symptoms resolved enough that I could tell what it was.
Hay fever.
Oh, yes. I remember this place now. It's all coming back to me. The blossoming trees, the golden fields of ragweed beside the highway, the dandelion dust drifting gracefully through the air - I am allergic to this place.
I am experiencing all the sluggishness, overall irritation, frustration and loss of personality that plagued me during my whole entire childhood. Great! This is just the kind of thing I came back for!
I was reading an article in the New Yorker online and it was talking about the symptoms of a hangover. In one bit it said:
"Finally, the alcohol has produced inflammation, which in turn causes the white blood cells to flood the bloodstream with molecules called cytokines. Apparently, cytokines are the source of the aches and pains and lethargy that, when our bodies are attacked by a flu virus—and likewise, perhaps, by alcohol—encourage us to stay in bed rather than go to work, thereby freeing up the body’s energy for use by the white cells in combatting the invader."*
I'm sure allergies work exactly the same way. So I'm a sluggish, achy, uncomfortable, swollen, sniffling mess. When, on the inside, I am a shiny, powerful, glittering star. But how will anyone ever detect this, in Wisconsin in the summertime?
Bah.
__
*Joan Acocella, "A Few Too Many: Is there any hope for the hung over?" in The New Yorker, May 26 2008.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment