Hatred. Maybe even complete Hateration. Hatingnessism, perhaps.
Oh, did you want more than that? Picky, picky. It’s always more, and then certain people come around here accusing me of being verbose. Which I just don’t get, as I am so loathe to prattle on about myself. HAHA! Sorry, that was a little too much sarcasm, even for me. Ahem. Okay, regardless, so many of my fellow bloggers have been waxing philosophic about their deep love for Autumn that I do feel I must elaborate.
Now, for normal people, Spring is the season that is hardest on the allergy-prone. And I have trouble with my allergies in the Spring, too. But for reasons that I don’t understand–mainly because I haven’t thought about it too much–Fall is much harder on my allergies than any other season. The onset of Fall finds me wandering around with squinty, itchy eyes and an aching face that feels very much as if my sinuses were filled with caulk. You’re not going to catch me breaking out into a spontaneous rendition of “I Feel Pretty” in the Fall. Add to this the fact that the kids are back to school and already bringing home every cold germ in the western hemisphere, and I am just not a happy upper respiratory system.
Yesterday, I was driving to my therapy session, and realized that I was quite wheezy. Having a lot of trouble breathing, in fact. So I whipped out my albuterol inhaler and had a couple of puffs. Problem solved. Well, wheeziness solved. New problem: my entire body was now shaking and jittering with an audible buzz. My hands shook, my thighs trembled (not in a good way), my toes tapped, and I was dizzy. I spent the first half of my session giggling at glass-breaking pitch and reassuring my therapist that I had not developed an amphetamine habit, it’s just that albuterol makes me a little wiggy. TEE HEE! OH DID MY BOUNCING LEG KNOCK OVER YOUR PLANT? TEE HEE! I’M SO EMBARRASSED, I’M SO TEE HEE SORRY!!! ALSO TEE HEE DEPRESSED! TEE! HEE!
Let’s review: Please choose between breathing easily or not being a total asshat. Hmmmm. That can be a tough one.
But! You say. Surely I am enjoying the Fall foliage here in New England, an area famous for its splendorous displays in this season. Yes. Sure. I have no job, dwindling savings, high-maintenance children, and an ex who stubbornly refuses to fall into a large pit in the earth and be consumed, and some red and yellow leaves make me realize that I am but an insignificant speck in the great circle of life.
Also? Those pretty leaves? Very pretty on the trees, I’ll grant you that. Not so pretty on my lawn. And pine needles… don’t even get me started. (Oh, hey! I think I just figured out the allergy thing. Didja see the little lightbulb going off over my head? I’m allergic to pine. Ding ding ding!) Not so much pine in the Spring, I’m guessing. But nowadays, there are about eleventy gazillion pine needles falling in my yard. And those pine needles need to be raked. Otherwise, all of my grass will die and the neighbors will tie me to my basketball hoop pole and bludgeon me to death with pinecones and buckets of sealcoating because by the way I never sealed my driveway this season, either.
I tried to outsmart the whole Fall Raking Extravaganza, last year. I started out with a regular rake and about five minutes and sixty-seven sneezes and five or six really inflammatory obscenities later decided that was not working for me. In that period of time, I had successfully raked an area about a foot square. That left me… ummm… an acre minus a foot, to go.
So, being the logical person that I am, I hopped online and searched for a tool to expedite the raking process. And lo, what to my eyes should appear, but the Rake-O! And at a bargain closeout price, no less! This contraption was a big wide thing with wheels on each end and prongs inbetween, designed to be pushed, rather than pulled (less strain) and about three times as wide as a conventional rake. So I ordered myself a marvelous Rake-O. But I should’ve Known-O that the Rake-O was a piece of Crap-O. I Tried-O to make it Work-O, but my stupid Rake-O would move about a Foot-O before it got Stuck-O. Complete-O and Total-O waste of Money-O. Yo.
Next was The Wrangling With The Ancient Rider Mower, which spends most of its time in my shed housing the local insect population. This mower has been professionally fixed on three occasions and jump-started and otherwise home-tinkered on countless others. The only thing it is good for is dying. At dying, this mower is a real champ. Naturally, it was broken when I struck upon my brilliant idea to hook up the feed tube and mulching bins and just suck up my yard debris. At the time I had a relatively mechanically-inclined assistant on hand to help me, and between the two of us we were able to more or less rig the mower as a gigantic yard vacuum. A few hours later, clean-up was complete. Woot!
This year? The rider is broken again. My assistant from last year suffered a demotion (I’ll let you figure out which letters were stripped from his assistant status) and is no longer on hand to fix the infernal thing. I am watching each leaf and pine needle fall and trying very hard not to weep.
Of course, when the weepiness really threatens to overcome me, I just have a couple of puffs on my inhaler. TEE*sob*HEE!