Breathless in January, Part One...

December came and went and the birds were all happy and peppy. The roaches roached and the mice did their mousey things and the air in the apartment got thicker and more pungent. My lungs protested all of this. They wheezed and phlegmed and struggled to do their job. I was no help. I didn't really do much to improve their fate. I swept once in a while, put out roach traps and mouse bait and ran the air purifier I had bought at Sears. Incidentally, I'm making the place sound much worse than it was. No, really. I did see the occasional roach and a little furry thing would scurry across the floor every now and then, but it wasn't exactly Wild Kingdom. The building was a well kept, clean apartment house. Yes, I was a slob, but I didn't leave food out or uncovered. I was sloppy, but not really dirty, except for the dust and the cages. The cages were where I really got lazy. Especially Oscar's. It was big and ugly and he was big and grumpy and I didn't have the patience to deal with it. Or him. So the dust and dander and poop may have been a smidge out of control. My lungs reacted accordingly. By the beginning of January, I knew I was in trouble. I called Dr. Katzenelenbogen and told him I was wheezing. Again.