I have been having horrible allergies for the past few weeks.  I am sneezy, I am sniffy, I am rashy, and thanks to Benadryl, I am definitely dopey.  At first I tried to find the source of the allergies — maybe I am sneezing so much because I am allergic to my dog, to the SPCA, to Montreal?  Maybe the rash is due to the aloe vera I put on my face before boarding a plane based on advice from Victoria Beckam in the most recent InStyle magazine.

If I am allergic to my volunteering job, it will not stop me from going back week after week.  If I am allergic to my dog (which I don’t think I am) then I will probably have to move before Rusby does, because Pedram and Rusby are madly in love and there is nothing that will come between them sitting on the couch and gazing into each other eyes every night.

Sure, maybe I have allergies to the entire city of Montreal, that just being here makes my eyes itchy and throat scratchy, but I tried to use that excuse for Brussels, and no one believed me.

And I probably shouldn’t have listened to Posh Spice about her pre-flight suggestions, because, lets face it, she and I have absolutely nothing in common.

Through all of this, Claritin and Benadryl have become my best friends, and I just realized that I have consumed about 12 of one or the other this week.  That probably is not very healthy.  It has also caused me to have vivid and disturbing and (even weirder) dreams.  Pedram’s helpful reaction has actually been to encourage my drugged confusion, telling me that there is a thin line between my slumber and reality.  And so now I wonder if Ted Bundy was really my babysitter when I lived in Florida, and if I really did bring a baby squirrel back to life using CPR.