Desert Living

It has been astoundingly dry here the last several... well, months. Dryer than an empty bottle of vodka in an alcoholic's liquor cabinet. Dryer than a pair of feet cracking at the heels without lotion. Dryer than a camel's floppy hump.

This is what happens sometimes. The last precipitation we had was in February. There has been no rain. The "river" in town is pitifully small, and severe water restrictions have been put in place already. It's only mid-April - I can't imagine what the summer will be like if this continues.

On top of the dryness, we've been getting the usual "windy season." There pretty much isn't a spring, fall or winter here. The seasons go windy, summer, windy, barren. And when it's been especially dry, like it has of late, the windy season is particularly obnoxious.

Sometimes when I walk to work, a wall of sand roars toward me. I can close my eyes and mouth, but I still taste the sand afterward. It wasn't until moving out here that I began to appreciate my eyelashes for their functional purpose: catching sand so it doesn't blow into my eyes. Thank you, eyelashes. Even if windows stay closed, a film of dirt builds up on the windowsill pretty quickly. It's disgusting. I think of how much worse the Dust Bowl must have been, and I'm glad for not having to live through it.

It's during spring and fall that my allergies strike, especially when I'm constantly blowing nothing but dirt out of my nose. Disgusting, but true. But that's not the worst of it.

This is the tree in front of our apartment. Budding green and beautiful, right?

This is that same tree, about two days later. Two freakin' days, and there's already trouble seeing the branches.

I try hard to avoid taking an excess of pain relievers, just because they're not good to take in large amounts. But it's hard when my head gets to pounding at the end of every day. The only thing that helps is to just stay inside sometimes, but I don't want to do that when it's so nice out.

I have one dose of Tylenol for severe sinus pain left. No, you can't have it. I'm hoarding it, saving it for when my brain feels like it's been transplanted for a bowling ball covered with spikes. I don't want to buy more because a) it's expensive, and b) I want to avoid taking anything extra with when we move. Yes, it's small, but the less we have to schlep, the better. The headaches aren't debilitating - just obnoxious.

I hope that last dose is the best thing since morphine, though.