Death by dog

Fucking hell. Half open my eyes, it’s early, I’m on Gwen, Rich is beside me all warm and huggable, it’s still dark, the radio’s set off and I can snooze back and listen while squirming pleasantly into my boyfriend and SMACK. The itch starts and rises to a sneeze before I have a chance to notice it. SMACK again. It fills my nose, particularly the sinus near the top, it reaches out to my forhead and the back of my throat – itching – untouchable, uneasable itching.

There are three options. I could rise, put on my clothes in two seconds and run to the hatch and throw myself out into the cold dark morning air and breathe something other than allergy. Except I couldn’t because I’m not awake. I could go back to sleep. Except I can’t because I have to get up at some point soon – that’s why the radio’s on. Or I could try to ignore it. Try to ignore it.

Rich’s hugs turn from a pleasant comfort to a crowding annoyance – I need air, I need to breathe, I have enough obstructions. I don’t let on and I turn my mind from my newly frustrated body. My left nostril clears, my right drips quietly as the left takes a big breath and feels the itch pull all the way in like wire wool. Another sneeze. My head fugs more, undoing my attempts to wake and get out of this. Each sneeze pushes me down a notch, knackers me out, try again.

Rich can’t understand why this is – I wasn’t this bad last time I stayed. I say maybe I get a bit worse when I’m on my period. He suggests I don’t stay over when I’m on my period. Great. He questions why it should be worse in the morning and I try to come up with answers but I don’t fucking know any better than he does. His questioning feels like not believing. I stop trying to be pleasant about it and get up and out of there as quickly as I can. He says of course he believes me, it’s obvious something’s happening, he just doesn’t understand it. This isn’t how it feels – he always questions it like this – “I don’t get why…” as though until he understands the complete mechanics of it it isn’t worth doing anything about. I know that’s unreasonable, but my face is melting.

I’m supposed to be going to the gym but I go home to rest and breathe. Last night Rich and I were talking about the possibility of me moving on the boat for the summer, working a part time job and getting some work done. He said maybe we could make a kennel for the dog on deck. But fuck it, maybe we should get me a kennel on deck. At least then it would definitely be allergy free. The living space can’t be, won’t be, while the dog lives there. Fuck.

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