I’ve decided that if I had the ability to change one thing in all of history, I would make the famous Santa Rosa horticulturist, Luther Burbank a boring banker.
Allergy season is in full swing here in town, and it is especially bad this year as in California we were initiated with copious amounts of rain. Rain makes things wet and the wet things tend to grow real good like. (Forgive me...I'm having a trouble concentrating as you will soon find out why) Anyway, these wet growing things have pollen in them. Pollen is the enemy.
I can no long sustain life on my own. I’m at symbiosis with a small pink pill, and a lovely brown liquid. This means that if I do not take the pink pill daily, I will die a horrible death, caused by sneezing my head off my shoulders. If I do take the pink pill, and not the brown liquid, I will sleep. This will cause me to miss my life, and work. This will result in no money, and no means to buy the pink pills, and eventually aforementioned embarrassing death. For the most part I can live with this solution.
Luther Burbank was a famous horticulturist. He is credited for the introduction of over 800 plants including hundreds of ornamental flowers. (All pollen producing enemies!) His plant species are all over Santa Rosa. I believe he was a sadist. I have no evidence except for the fact that thousands of people in Sonoma County suffer daily because of this mans sick fascination with pretty flowers.
When I moved up here from Los Angeles area, it seemed so serene. No smog, no traffic no Dodger fans. I could finally breathe easy. Then came spring. I went to the allergist, who, after numerous test concluded that I am allergic to roughly 2/3’s of Santa Rosa plant life. Happy freaking day! Well, there certainly had to be a solution to this problem, right? I remember my grandmother once told me, grow up and become an allergist, or a podiatrist. “Peter,” she smiled “Your patients never have emergencies, and they never get better.” She was right on the money.
So every year I spend late Spring in abject misery, locked in a hermetically sealed room, hiding from the daisies, crape myrtles and yelling at nieghbors who have the audacity to mow their lawns!
What can be done? Benadryl has been my only answer. Benadryl is sweet nectar from heaven. I love Benadryl commercials, always showing happy people outside playing, or driving in a convertible. What they don’t tell you, is after you take a Benadryl, your really only ready for one thing; Sleeping. You never knew you could fall asleep slumped over your lawnmower, or halfway between bites at your local Penny Henny’s. Often referred to as the nurse’s sleeping pill, Benadryl means you will be unfit to walk, talk, drive, eat, and most of all, live your life.
My eyes are no longer closed shut, due to red, swollen discomfort, but instead weighted shut by the eyelid lead that is a Benadryl.
What can be done? Coffee. Drink 17 cups of coffee a day to counteract the effects of one Benadryl. You can now walk, talk, eat, and drive. Not that anyone would want to walk, talk, eat or drive anywhere with you. Your awake, but at what cost? You’re a nervous wreck and you can’t concentrate on any subject for longer than 30 seconds. Additionally you will need to be within 7 seconds of a restroom for the next 5 months.
If Luther Burbank wasn't buried in an unmarked grave, I might just dig him up and give him a piece of my mind... what of it there is left. What was I talking about? Right. Sonoma County – Paradise, especially if you’re an allergist, pharmacist, or Starbucks barista. Now excuse me I'm off to get some work d-- zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz