Well, last week was pretty stressful with the whole allergy shot thing. Turns out that by the end of the year I can expect to be in the hole for around $1,000. And since I’m only four more shots away from reaching my maintenance dose (at which point the shot-frequency drops to once per month) the bulk of the expenditure is for shots I’ve already received, so there’s nothing I can do about it anyway. I’d feel better about it if I had a reason to believe these shots were making a difference, but I was at a co-worker’s Super Bowl party on Sunday and nearly died from exposure to the hair-factory they call their cat, so if the shots do work miracles they certainly haven’t done so yet.
I had a gathering at my place on Saturday with about half-a-dozen friends to celebrate the one-year Danniversary of my arrival in Washington, in the form of a fifth-grade slumber party (yay for me having repaired my futons). I consumed a very modest amount of alcohol and wound up vomiting about four times that night, had a killer hangover the next morning, and threw up an additional time for good measure that evening. I was never a heavyweight, but I am not amused by this sudden weakening of my constitution.
Between my sickness and the Super Bowl party I managed to drag myself to on Sunday, I have been remiss in cleaning up the apartment following the slumber party. Hopefully I’ll get around to it this evening, but my gut (still on the mend) tells me to get comfortable with the sight of beer bottles, wine glasses and stale party snacks, at least for a couple more days.
Dan.