Me: My eyes though.
You: I mean, MY EYES.
Me: Like swollen, slime-covered, itching fireballs of death.
You: Redder than Julia Roberts’ dress in Pretty Woman.
Me: Literally flaming-like-the-raging-fires-of-hell red.
You: I want to scratch until I hit oil.
Me: I want to scratch until I reach the earth’s core.
You: Oh my God, I’m going to sneeze…
Me: I can’t hear you, my ears are so blocked.
Me: (waggles finger in ear, wincing)
You: I’m taking every drug I can get my hands on.
Me: I’m taking more than that.
You: I’m squirting stuff up my nose…
Me: In my eyes….
You: Crunching down pills…
Me: I’m washing my hair nine times a day….
You: If I even look at a flower, my face swells.
Me: I can’t open my eyes wide enough to see any flowers.
You: Flowers are the handmaids of Satan.
Me: Pollen is the devil’s cocaine.
You: I have to literally blow my nose in my sleep.
Me: I have to sleep bolt upright to have any chance of avoiding total suffocation.
You: The sun comes out and I recoil like a vampire.
Me: Plants start to flower and I physically choke with fear.
You: Someone actually called the RSPCA last week because they thought I was a rabbit with myxomatosis.
Me: I would prefer to have myxomatosis. I would actually love that.
You: Me too. I would be like, ‘This isn’t that bad,’ to the other rabbits.
Me: What have the rabbits got to complain about?
You: Nobody tells *them* to put Vaseline up their noses.
Me: Is there anyone on earth that has ever worked for?
You: (makes choking noises)
Me: (rubs eyes)
*repeat until September*