All the while, my allergies were cracking the whip over the backs of my sinuses: PRODUCE MUCUS! PUMP IT OUT! PRODUCE! PUMP! PRODUCE! PUMP!
I countered with a generic claritin; it was kicked aside jeeringly. I was nearly done in by a machine gun attack of sneezes, but the mighty kleenex pack somehow prevailed. My left eye started to water so badly I was afraid I'd weedeat my foot, but I managed to retain all of my toes.
Finally, I felt a hot band of metal encircle my head. They were bringing out the big guns: a migraine.
PUT DOWN THE CLIPPERS, the allergies warned, OR WE WILL MELT YOUR BRAIN.
Crap. They had me.
"Okay, okay," I conceded, attempting a hearty laugh (which came out as a labored, panting wheeze), "You win."
All right. Well, today they've won the battle, but not the war. I just picked up about forty pounds of grass and plant fertilizer. HA!