Ain't No Shame in the Popcorn Game - I Brought an Ol' Sunday Ritual Back to My Home. Dinner

Truth. I'm still feeling sketchy about ordering food, but I'm also sick of cooking and having meals ready, so by 8 p.m. last night I thought to myself, "There should be popcorn in the cabinet somewhere." I recalled all the years with Lawrence Welk and The Waltons spent in Utica and Syracuse.

Heck. When they invented the microwave kind, I think we made that dinner 3 nights a week on Amalfi Drive. Why not have a popcorn night? I don't use butter and only a little salt. It's a treat, although my teeth hate how the kernel shells get caught in the gums. It's a price I was willing to pay.

On Day 9, I did two journal reviews (an article that is one of the best studies I've ever read), and graded to be ready for Monday night's class. I also went for a 6-mile run because I woke up feeling great. Guess what? Mile 5, I realized all the trees getting ready to pop were dispersing pre-pollen into my head. I clogged up quickly, had to walk, and knew it was down hill from there (even if I ran with an anti-Corona/pollen bandana). Ugh.

By 4 p.m., I was asleep in my grading chair. I was clogged up with mucus because that is the way Crandall rolls in the spring. It's so much fun and I can't catch a break. At one point I thought I was simply going to go to bed for the evening, but I remembered I was to have a mini-high school reunion with some friends on ZOOM, so drank Thera-Flu and stayed up.

This may explain the popcorn dinner, really.

Sometimes I believe I'm the phlegmiest human being alive. The amount of mucus my body makes in a 12 hour period is something else. I've always been this way, but in childhood, my allergies also showed via eczema on my arms (especially the area on the inside where it bends) used to be a garden of rashy, pink skin and scabs. The burn from those days remain a scar in my head. I'd sometimes get it along my neck, in my armpits, and in back of my legs, too.

Of course, that has moved to psoriasis that flares up and down, depending on the weather, stress level, and how much I'm able to treat it.

So, popcorn it was.

I don't think it'll be smart to sleep with he windows open, although I love the fresh air. For the next few weeks it will be a war between my nostrils, lungs, eyes, and throat as everything goes into bloom. I want to enjoy every second of it, but my biology typically has another plan. It's never fun.

I just want to run and run and run. I don't want to be trapped at home. Alas. Wishful thinking.

We're all in this now.