You know, I was doing better and better with my allergies-manifested-as-death-rattle-coughing-fits, to the point where I eased myself off the multiple prescription respiratory drugs for a few days and still wasn’t having any symptoms. But I seem to have shot myself in the foot, or the lung, as it were.
This past weekend, as mentioned, I went a little nuts hauling futons down flights of stairs and heaving shattered couch frames into the garage and disassembling semi-self-destructed gliders, but I was also ever-so-slightly constructively productive as well. I took some of the spare lumber lying around (I had bought enough to make the little guy’s birthday train table approximately three times over, just in case I managed to utterly foul up one or two attempts, which did not seem beyond the realm of the possible) and I cobbled together a very rudimentary workbench which in turn allowed me to straighten up the garage a lot more because various things found a home either on top of or stacked neatly below said workbench. I enjoy most excuses to make use of drills and circular saws and whatnot, especially when the end results do not need to conform to any particular societal definitions of attractive craftsmanship, so that was a fun bit of time spent on a Saturday afternoon. (Again, I rush to point out, all conducted when the little guy and all his vulnerable little fleshy parts were already laid down for a nap.)
The miscalculation on my part was running the drill and the circular saw in the garage, with the garage door closed, which arguably led to me inhaling a bit higher proportion of wood particles than is generally recommended. I don’t think I’m hemorrhaging from bronchial splinters or anything, but it did irritate my airways just enough to set my internal system all a-tizzy again, and I’ve been tight-chested and phlegmy ever since.
So I’m back on the meds again and hoping that at least this is just a spot of idiocy I can work out of my system and be done with, as opposed to the inescapable arboreal allergens that were choking me in August and September. But man, a couple more nights of trying to lie perfectly still, rather than spazzing out and hacking up a lung, so as not to disturb the essential rest of my lovely expectant wife, and that vicodin cough syrup the doctor prescribed me is going to start looking dang tempting.