I’ve always felt one of the important parts of functioning as a compassionate human being is considering what other people are going through when they cross your path. It’s taking a second to process the possibility that the frantic, freaked out faces of strangers along the sidewalk, on the highway or even around the office might be genuine and justified. Often, especially now that I spend more time in a car than ever before, I make up stories for oblivious drivers. I get cut off and think, “ah, must be late for a funeral.” Someone crosses three lanes of traffic without a signal and I tell myself, “maybe they have to pee really bad.”

Recently, however, I’ve been the crazy, wide-eyed individual. Luckily not because of a death in the family or tremendous need to use the restroom, but instead thanks to my poison ivy treatment. Indeed, those of you who know me well have heard about my love/hate relationship with the woods. Basically, I love going out, but I hate coming back due to the fact that I’m allergic to everything—especially poison ivy. A few weeks back I contracted one of the worst cases I’ve had in years. Covered from the waist down. The doctor’s solution was a massive supply of powerful steroids.

So, for the last two weeks, I’ve been twitchy and tweaked. Driving is a challenge. Drinking is really out of the question. Communicating without getting slightly agitated is doable, but not easy. For a guy who already drinks a little too much coffee to begin with, I’ve spent the last 11 days wondering when my head may pop off. It hasn’t yet, but I suspect many of the people who see me on a daily basis would be relieved if it did.

The ivy is almost gone. I have a few pills left, but I’m thinking I might coast from here on out. I’m all for modern medicine, but I’m beginning to think I may prefer the ivy over the roid rage. I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see how the day turns out. Until then, GOOD BYE. THANKS FOR STOPPING BY. HAPPY FRIDAY. PLEASE STAY OUT OF MY WAY AND KEEP THE SHARP OBJECTS OUT OF REACH.


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