One of the best things about living in Texas is the mild winters. For a few short, sweet months the sun loses its piercing intensity and rewards us with day after day of 65-degree weather. I feel like a criminal staying indoors on these days. But for the past couple weeks I have been sequestered in my house like a person allergic to light. Like a vampire, really. I have cedar allergies.
This is the first winter here that I’ve had problems with this. I didn’t know it was possible to develop allergies. I thought you were born with them, but several people here have told me that cedar allergies seem to need time to develop. Wow, once you get them, they are miserable. My sinuses are constantly stuffed up, and I’m having a hard time sleeping because it’s difficult to breathe when I’m so congested. So my eyes are puffy from not getting enough sleep, but on top of that, they also itch as though they have been smeared with some sort of poisonous weed. I’m taking allergy meds, but they always leave me feeling a little dopey so I try to avoid them when I can.
My co-workers tell me the allergies will only get worse over time. So I’ve started scoping out homes in Vermont. I’m thinking I will have to do a sort of reverse migration. When all of the seniors are making their way to the sun belt, I will flee to the gray, dreary north, where the only thing in the air is snowflakes. I’ve always wanted to take up cross country skiing.
Well, Texas, I thought that you and I might finally be friends. Oh, sure, I knew there were trade-offs. I had started to accept your violent thunderstorms and crazy monster-truck-driving citizens, knowing that in return I would never have to scrape my windshield or pull on an awkward, puffy pair of boots. But this, this crazy two-month-long illness you’ve saddled me with, is too much.