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For once this decade I managed to get all my Christmas cards written and mailed with a minimum of internal hysterics, though that might be partly owing to a few names dropping off the list, and partly to there being nothing else I had to do. Still have a few seasonal snarlies, as when reading Piers Morgan's take on Prince Harry (what's with right-wing types' reflex projection? The editor of the Daily Mail's relationship with the truth is flatly adversarial) and the young idiot who decided to strike up a conversation with me as I was trundling home (we Do Not Do This in Toronto, unless there's less than ten years difference between you) which promptly turned into him telling me that masks don't work and why was I wearing one anyway? I should have said, 'So I don't have to smell that cigarette you're smoking' but because it's Christmas and I'm out of patience I just said Go away, and he did.
One reason to wear a mask is because temps reached a dizzying 14C/ 57F and all the leaf mould allergies came roaring back in the bright sunshine. Actually they've been doing it for days and I've been sneezing and hacking clear mucous up because of it. I'd almost rather have something actually in the lungs than this chronic post-nasal drip, but then I'd probably fret about COVID or RSV. So I keep hot beanbags on my chest and round my sinuses, and sleep propped up.
One reason to wear a mask is because temps reached a dizzying 14C/ 57F and all the leaf mould allergies came roaring back in the bright sunshine. Actually they've been doing it for days and I've been sneezing and hacking clear mucous up because of it. I'd almost rather have something actually in the lungs than this chronic post-nasal drip, but then I'd probably fret about COVID or RSV. So I keep hot beanbags on my chest and round my sinuses, and sleep propped up.