It started soon after we moved into the house.
First a sniffle here and there. An achoo! A bit of sinus pressure, a headache.
"We must be adjusting to life in DC,"
"Moving sure takes it out of you,"
"The weather change is to blame for this."
Achoo. Cough. Hack.
Achoo. Ow. Sniffle.
Then it became more serious. Two sinus infections, several colds. Did I mention we had his ‘n’ hers infections around Valentine’s Day? It doesn’t get more romantic than yellow roses, hacked out of your very own lung garden, I tell you.
I started to mutter silent thank yous to Those Above that Herr Meow does not yet have sinuses.
"It’s the winter,"
"It’s this damn snow!"
When spring came around, things got kind of ugly, as things do when everything is surrounded by plant jizz. And so, the hacky dusty nastiness lingered.
"Could we be allergic to the alley?"
"Is there some sort of black yet invisible mold growing in our bedroom?"
"It’s this damn political sooty dirty sold-off-to-the-Man DC air, isn’t it?"
It has to be. Sniff, hack, sniff.
Yesterday I opened the other half of the window in our bedroom. You know… the top side, instead of the bottom one, in those sash windows that split open so you can open the top or the bottom?
It was dusty.
Dust from eons and eons, clinging to the tops of those windows.
Occam’s Razor, biatches.
If you need me, I will be, vinegar and newsprint in hand, cleaning windows today– and possibly realizing just what it means to say "I don’t to windows."
Other than, you know, not owning a PC.
Have a happy weekend, everyone!