Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Sneezy Wheezy Laura

While I was on vacation last week, I went to the Art Institute of Chicago because I love me some Dutch painters.

Pieter Claesz. PIETER CLAESZ.

Oh, look, a lion! Also various buildings.
We started with my aunt's favorite part, Impressionism. I used to be crazy about the Impressionists, but then I became obsessed with certain Dutch Golden Age painters. As one does. But we started in Impressionism, because my aunt. She doesn't get to go to museums of any sort as much as Mum and I do, because she cannot convince my uncle or cousins to come along. We discovered this and decided to remedy it, because Mum and I are museum people.



See? See that painting right there? Firstly, it is giant. Secondly, it is in a room where everything fell apart for me, nasally speaking. One moment I was happily walking along, looking at the adorable school children who had come on a field trip, the next minute I was making sounds similar to explosions and begging tissues off Mum.

What happened?

Allergies.

See, some lady walked through the room before me. And she was wearing the most potent gardenia perfume I have encountered outside of the sample bottle of that hideous (and sexist) Harvey Prince gardenia perfume that came in my Birchbox.

If you look below, you'll see exactly when my spirit died. Mum said, "People are taking their pictures with Vincent van Gogh! You need to do it!" I followed her over, stood still, let her take my picture, and then blew my nose repeatedly.

Vinnie and I like to hang out sometimes.

I sneezed through that whole museum. Nothing helped. I tried washing my face in the bathroom, and STILL I got no relief. It was nightmarish. I kept thinking the guards were going to ask me to leave, because my sneezes are loud normally, but in the echoing chambers of the Art Institute, they were nearly deafening. By lunchtime, I was half convinced I'd somehow contracted a cold. But no. Allergies.

I feel I should offer a blanket apology to all those who thought I was giving them TB or some kind of hideous cold virus by coming to the museum sick. I'm sorry I freaked you out, people. But blame Perfume Lady.

By the evening, I was feeling a bit better. I had to use my inhaler, though, so Perfume Lady owes me I think at least $27.00 or something for the medicine. I feel like I should be able to charge people who trigger my asthma attacks for the medicine I have to use. I mean, if she hadn't worn that perfume, I wouldn't have had to use my inhaler. I buy my emergency inhaler just to cope with people's perfume or cigarette smoke. I wouldn't have to if people skipped using perfume or smoking. I should be able to send invoices.

Sending invoices would be fun. I could put pictures on them.






I especially like the last one, because I have wanted to punch my allergies in the face for years.

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