Earworm #28: The Hollies — (All I Need is) The Air That I Breathe

F*%k you allergies! My life as a mouth-breather. Part 1 of the Allergy Trilogy.

As a kid, I used to always wear long pants and a thin jacket during the spring and summer seasons.

Not because my parents were afraid I would get sunburned — we lived in the San Fernando Valley (a suburb north of Los Angeles) where the average high temperature between May and November was in the mid-90s. (That’s low 30s in Celsius for you metrical folks.) Getting sunburned was a given.

No, I was covered neck to toe in fabric because I was allergic to nearly all forms of flora. Trees, grasses, flowers, shrubs — anything that grew in size, flowered or emitted pollen would turn me into a sneezing, wheezing mess.

Spring was an especially debilitating season for me. Every tree, every flower, every grass seemed to be in simultaneous bloom, casting their allergenic poisons in my direction.

When my nostrils weren’t perpetually producing snot faucets stuck in the open position, they would clog and seal shut, creating a backup that seemingly extended into my brain.

Try this: Pinch your nostrils and try to talk. It feels…