Waving the White Flag

Dear pollen,

You win.  I give up.  I’m not going to even try to dust my furniture until you’re done sprinkling all of creation with your yellow dust.  Last year I was sneezy, snotty, drippy and generally miserable, thanks to you; this year, all I have is a dusty house.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful you’re not wreaking havoc on my sinuses, instead focusing solely on coating my furniture with your ‘gift.’   However, I’m declaring you the winner.  My dust rag can’t keep up with your offerings and I’m officially throwing in the towel.


The Neurotic Housewife

I’m beginning to regret ever purchasing a black kitchen table and chairs, which I’ve now lovingly named ‘the pollen magnet.’

It’s pretty gross seeing everything coated with a thick layer of yellow dust, but, as I’ve finally admitted, removing it is futile.  What’s that saying about nailing jello to a tree…or trying to heard cats?  Yep, that’s what springtime pollen removal is like.

I suppose I could keep the windows closed to keep the pollen outside where it belongs.  However, the breeze is really nice and our house is stuffy, otherwise.

Maybe a good rain will come and wash it all away so my furniture can once again be restored to its shiny glory.  Just be sure to pay no attention to the dings, nicks and permanent marker stains, okay?  I suppose I should say our furniture should be restored to its ‘functional, well worn, loved and slightly mistreated shiny glory.’

In other news, I misplaced my favorite running shorts.  Which, aren’t even mine, by the way; they’re actually Craigs, but I claim them as mine. I searched high and low for those beloved shorts, including behind the washer and dryer.  I’m generally not one to put things in places they don’t belong (ahem, like other members of my family), but I searched every nook and cranny, anyway.  To no avail.  It was a fruitless search, indeed.

I was beginning to think they fell out of my gym bag one day as I left the gym.  Which, to me, would have been mortifying.  Could you imagine just dropping your sweaty clothes right there in the middle of the gym as you walked out the door?  Well, others might not find this traumatic, but I sure would have. 

I kind of gave up hope on ever being reacquainted with my shorts.  I figured they were gone for good.  I even had a little pity party about that very notion.  Because being so attached to running shorts is incredibly normal, right?

So, imagine my surprise when I popped open Craig’s car trunk this afternoon and saw my shorts.   Eureka! Hooray!

Evidently, I failed to remove my dirty gym clothes and towel from the trunk the last time I drove his car to the gym, which was almost two weeks ago. 


They’re in the washing machine as I write this.

Sigh.  You know, I can hardly believe I just typed so many words about something so ridiculous.  It’s a shame my life is so boring.  I hate to waste all this God given writing talent on my completely boring life.  Ha!

Sorry, I make jokes when I’m feeling pathetic.  And also?  My face has broken out like crazy.  It’s more of a rash than anything, but its right by my mouth and it certainly isn’t helping my mood at all. 

It’s probably the pollen’s fault.


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