1) As with the “because cilantro” idiom, can we also stop with the incomplete, “That moment you [fill in the blank]”?
Example 1: “That moment you pee your pants.”
Example 2: “The moment your child smears chocolate pudding on the dog and then solves an equation that would make Will Hunting proud.”
Example 3: “That time you showed up at Mariano’s with your shirt on backwards.”
What ABOUT any of these moments am I supposed to care about? Are you trying to tell me you’re having an issue with incontinence? Was something funny? Are you concerned about the chocolate being bad for the dog? Are you concerned the chocolate is bad for your child? Doesn’t everyone show up at the grocery store with their clothes askew at some point in life?
I need context, people. If you’re not going to give your statement some context, I can’t even pretend to care about or relate to it. It’s an incomplete thought, and while I am a Pisces and a bit psychic, I cannot read your mind. I get that you HAD that moment, but how did it make you FEEL? Anxious? Afraid? Stabby? Overcome with manic gladness? What HAPPENED?
Unless you tell me, it’s entirely lost on me, and what we’re left with is the fact that you’re a horrible storyteller.
2) About six weeks ago I started getting allergy shots, because I am allergic to the entire planet, and I live in a very small space with beasts.
Before you can get allergy shots, you have to have scratch testing done to see what you’re allergic to and to what degree (as measured by how big the welts are on your forearms from the scratches).
Turns out I’m very allergic to everything, with the exception of mold and feathers.
Moldy chickens for everyone!
Anyway, like I said I’m six weeks into the shots (you have to go weekly for the first six to eight months), and I do think they’re helping. The amount of money I’ve spent on Claritin D has decreased tremendously (sorry, Bayer stockholders), and that alone is a good indicator that the shots have a fair chance at success.
I will say, though, it’s a little disconcerting that I have to carry an Epi pen with me to every appointment. I completely understand why—God forbid I go into anaphylactic shock—but it freaks me out a little nonetheless. It makes my environmental allergies seem so much more nefarious than they did before. It’s as if every dust mite is suddenly going to rise up against me and then join forces with the trees and grasses until they dominate the land, and me with only my Epi pen and Claritin D to fight them.
At least I’ve got the moldy chickens on my side.
3) All of my clothing pockets smell like dog treats.
(It makes me very popular at the dog park.)
(We’re training Juniper, you see.)
(She did great during the six weeks of formal training classes she had!)
(And she does great at home!)
(Not so much out in public, because she has the attention span of a gnat, and goes batshitcrackers when another dog walks by on a leash.)
Which means that every time I grab a Kleenex out of my pocket—see the arforementioned environmental allergy known to man—I get a strong whiff of “delicious duck.”
I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.
I’m not saying it’s a good thing, either.
But if I had to choose, I’d say it’s definitely better than the roasted chicken. Duck is just so much more elegant.
4) There is a blind man who rides the same bus I do, sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Every time I see him, no matter what time of day, people practically jump at the chance to help him, either guiding him by the arm, or letting him know which number bus is arriving, or if there is an obstacle that might pose a problem for him.
It makes me happy.
In this city that can be simultaneously so divisive and so self-absorbed, seeing people offer up help with absolutely no expectation of anything in return is beautiful.
We need more moments like that.
Tags: allergies, animals, cats, Chicago, dogs, nerd alert, things I've been meaning to tell you
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