Fun with Allergies! (Or How to Lose Friends & Irritate Kitties)

Yesterday I went in to work and discovered I'd run out of my allergy medication. This was capital 'B' bad, as I'm allergic to the detritus of recycled office building air & dust motes, both of which are abundant in my building.

I'm not sure how to explain how bad this was without drawing you a wee picture; Imagine a relatively cheerful, optimistic individual. Now imagine that individual turning into a full-on cranky, creaky-voiced, sneezy little troll, complete with nose-blowing that sounds like a Canada Goose mating call and a desire to rip the nose of the next person to suggest that I should "...take better care of yourself, you don't want to get other people ill". Yeah. Like I'm plotting to get other people sick.

Make that transformation happen in under an hour.
Now add in the beginnings of a colossal headache.

That was me at 8am yesterday morning.

By 10am I'd gone through a box of kleenex, and sounded like a young boy going through puberty-related voice breakage. The thought of being cheerful almost brought on the tears.

By noon I was saying as little as possible (without grunting) and hoping to get through the rest of the day without commiting a serious CLM [Career Limiting Move - definition available here and here] .

By 1:30pm I'd bought and downed replacement pills, as well as zinc and vitamin C and what felt like an ocean of orange juice. I was still snuffly, cranky and now had the added bonus of needing to go every five minutes. Oh Yeah!

By 2:30pm I was no longer talking to anyone, and wanted to kick my own heinie for being such a grouch. My eyes, ears and nose were still rebelling.

By 5pm I'd arrived home, eaten something directly out of the fridge, and fallen into bed to sleep the sleep of the allergic. The cats must have figured it was safe to join me, for when I awoke 3 hours later I was completely pinned in.

And did I mention... still cranky?

I only stayed up a couple of hours to complete some photoshop work. When I realized that my frustration over my seemingly useless optical mouse had scared the cats into hiding, I knew I had to be stopped. When I found myself pouncing on my poor unsuspecting spouse and berating him for who-knows-what, I knew it had gone too far, and I needed to go back to bed. I don't remember my head hitting the pillow - just the little one's purr going into hyperdrive in an effort to calm me down.

This morning things are much better, although I seem to be having residual issues with spelling & computers. I'm almost back to cheerful, my desire to throttle has subsided considerably, and the sun has decided to come back.

And I've stocked extra allergy pills in my desk. It's probably safer for everyone involved.