For most of the 32 years I lived in Sacramento, I was treated for allergies that made my life miserable. Every year, almost precisely to the date of March 15th (the Ides of March no less) I would begin to sneeze constantly and violently. My eyes would itch. My soft palate would itch to the point that sometimes I would start swallowing involuntarily. My nose ran and I would go through boxes of Kleenex. . .the wastebaskets around my house gave testimony every year to when the season began. Before Mitch Blum successfully tested and treated me with shots, it would get to the point where the irritation in my nose would turn into pretty severe bleeding and infection. In the late 70s and into the early 80s, I was so desperate, I considered moving to the Monterey Peninsula to get away from the misery of the Valley.

This situation was ameliorated by shots that I took pretty much year round. Still, every spring, from March 15th through the end of June, and again in the fall for about 6 weeks, I went through some symptoms. They were sufficiently under control with the shots and occasional use of Zyrtec that I stopped considering moving to Monterey or Carmel, but the problem never really went away. It was also pretty time consuming to get shots every week. By the time I drove or rode my bike to the Dr's office, waited my turn for shots, spent the required 20 minutes after the shot to prove that I wasn't going into anaphylactic shock, and drove or rode home, I usually killed between one and two hours.

Well things have changed! I was warned by my neighbors here that this is a bad area for allergy sufferers and to brace myself for the onslaught. Now I realize that it is possible that I will eventually suffer here as much as I did in Sacramento, but the apparent sum total of my allergic reaction to the stuff in the air here is to sneeze between 2 and 4 times in the first 20 minutes or so after I get up in the morning. That's it. I don't have shots. I don't take Zyrtec. I don't have a landfill named after me for all the Kleenex I go through. It's a miracle.

For those of you who were worried about my home life turning into some bad sci-fi horror flick, relax. I went downstairs this morning and didn't find a single fly in the kitchen or breakfast area. Decie, my housekeeper came yesterday and cleaned all the windows that were covered with Raid residue, vacuumed up the hundreds of dead flies from the window sills and floors, and unleashed another attack on them in the laundry where I hadn't realized there were more of them. There are still a few stragglers buzzing around upstairs, but I suspect I can get rid of them without unleashing nuclear weapons.

My sister pointed out to me the irony that I was born in the Chinese Year of the Rat.