We’ve all got it at this time of year; watery eyes, a sniffling
nose, a scratchy throat, and a headache that won’t go away. We’re stuck in a
temperature inversion along the Wasatch front, and it’s like living at the
bottom of a very cold bowl of oatmeal. The air is so filthy we can’t see the
sun in the daytime or the stars at night. Everything is a dismal shade of grey.
The only cure is a storm to blow the gunk away. But it looks as if
there’s nothing like that in our immediate future. My eyes are as thirsty for color as my lungs are for fresh air. When I whine, John quotes
Star Trek: “The air is the air. What can be done?” He’s right, of course. At
least I have a temporary fix lined up. Tomorrow I mean to pull out some sunny
yellow, blue and green floral fabric to sew while I watch Downton Abbey.
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