Allergies punched me in the throat again today. Itís not as if I have to fight this evil nemesis every day. Most of the time we coexist, but every so often the allergies get the upper hand, and I just have to hunker down and try to survive. I knew I was in trouble straight out of bed this morning, but I thought I could outlast the nasty feeling in my head and throat. I was sure Iíd be fine by mid afternoon, if not earlier.
Oh, how wrong we can be. It got worse and worse as the day wore on, and as much as I tried to ignore it, I had to admit defeat. I had told Tammy I would join them for dinner at the coast tonight, but I had to call her at 4:30 and let her know I wasnít up to it. Up for it, but not up to it. This will probably be the last time they go out to dinner for months and months, so I know I missed out on something special.
I drank orange juice and ate chicken noodle soup, but Iím not sick in the viral sense of the word. The cold thatís gone through the family missed me. As lousy as I felt today, I can be pretty sure that tomorrow (or the day after) Iíll be better, maybe even okay. Thatís what usually happens when I have this gunk clogging me up. Itís why Iím not worried enough to call the doctor (or email him, which I think is the preferred method of making appointments with the new HMO).
Did I sit around feeling sorry for myself while the rest of the family was out having fun? Well, yes, a little. But I also did some disk cleanup on the computer while watching the ballgame. I copied a CD a friend had loaned me a week ago. I did a load of laundry. So (as pathetic as that sounds) itís not as if I wasted the whole day being miserable. Iíve been lots more miserable than this, but itís hard to take much comfort in that when Iím missing out on something.