It’s Cedar season in Austin. That wonderful time of year when the male cedar trees release tons of pollen into the air in an attempt to, I don’t know—attract female cedar trees? Can trees have sex? Is that possible? I mean, years ago I heard someone humming “Let’s Get It On” when I was in an Oregon forest, but I just assumed it was a squirrel. Now I wonder if it was actually an oak tree trying to get laid. After all, most of them have nuts and sap and little buds and—
Why, yes! I am on enough allergy medication to kill a horse right now! How did you know?
I’ve actually been really sick with cedar allergies since November 1st and haven’t left the house much. Except for the quick trip I made to the school’s Scholastic Book Fair where they were not very friendly when I politely inquired if they had “50 Shades of Grey” and its matching bath toys. And the quick trip I then took to the librarian’s office where I was told that my “humor was not appreciated” and to stop licking the Captain Underpants posters or I’d be arrested for vandalism and general grodyness. I’m telling you, it’s such a stupid bureaucracy over there.
Okay, fine. None of that is true.
Or maybe all of it’s true.
Or OMG how the hell am I supposed to keep reality straight when the only things in my body are antihistamines, expired Pedialyte and the Halloween candy I found floating in our pool?! Seriously, now I know why Courtney Love keeps a journal. This keeping reality straight business isn’t easy.
The good news is that in my stoned condition I’m really enjoying reggae music for the first time. Also, Spongebob. The bad news is that I was recently at a neighborhood party and supposedly told everyone I was running for City Council. As my friends gleefully told me the next morning, “And then, after you solicited donations, you told everyone that your campaign slogan would be: Vote for Wendi! She Cleaned Up the 4th Grade As Room Mom, Now She’ll Clean Up Texas, You Jerkfaces.” Whatever, the joke’s on them because I already found two wadded up twenties in my pocket to start my war chest.
The other bad news is that, despite my dilated pupils and fascination with my own hands, I still have to keep up with my housework. Like the non-stop laundry. Yesterday I got a little tired in the middle of it.
Question: What did my husband say when he walked into the living room and saw me like that?
A) I think we need to start seeing other people.
B) You’re still going to fold all of those, right?
C) What’s for dinner?
D) All of the motherf*cking above.
But don’t worry about me because I’m doing just fine. Sure, based on the hot pink ooze that came out of my finger when I got a papercut, I might be overdoing it on the Benadryl. And sure, based on the 10 minute long conversation I recently had with a decorative Halloween scarecrow, I might have too much Advair Mist in my system. And sure, I might have at least 20 Breathe-Right Nasal Strips stuck to various parts of my body including my bikini wax area. But you know what? As long as the male cedar trees are getting their freak on, it’s all good. I am doing JUST FINE, PEOPLE.
And now, if you’ll please excuse me, I think there’s a Captain Underpants poster over at the school that needs licking. Be right back.