SPRING, DON'T TAKE OFF NOW

How do I know it's really Spring?

The armored bee is back.  I am typing at my computer, which is on the second floor, and I spot movement at the screen in the window.  It's the bee that bothers me every year, the bee that has a hard shell on its outside, the bee that cannot be killed by sprays or beatings, so a few years ago, we agreed to just get along and share my patio. The bee appears every Spring and disappears as soon as the leaves are completely unfurled. 

Until the leaves are completely unfurled, green stringy things drop from the branches above the patio and plop onto the cement.  My patio goes from clear to coated (with green decorations) in about eight minutes flat.  I attempt to sit outside and enjoy a few minutes of peace and quiet this afternoon (late enough in the day that Bee has given up until tomorrow), but I am innundated with green sprigs dive-bombing me.  Totally ruins the moment, so in I go.

Mostly, though, the pollen is killing me.  Even when I'm inside the house, I throw a few monstrous, unpredictable, pollen-fueled sneeze attacks.  My nose runs, my throat is scratchy, and my eyes water so badly that my make-up runs in lines down my cheeks if I don't have a tissue immediately on hand.

Ah, Spring; I love you, but you do not love me back.  So unfair.  However, I'm damn glad you're here, so don't even consider taking off on me now.