I am usually very happy in my little village in the mountains. The serenity, the warm close knit community, the scenery...
There are a few weeks in the year, though, that I really suffer living where I do. From Pesach (Passover) until about a month later (Lag B'Omer time), the place really gets up my nose.
You see, when the lovely growing things around here start doing the plant version of "be fruitful and mulitply" and start distributing their pollen, I suffer. It starts with that really annoying itch in your throat that you can't scratch, and then it progresses to sneezing, coughing, and my eyes tearing. People who know me think I must be crying for joy that I don't have to clean for Passover for another WHOLE year. (Well, not really. I hate cleaning but not enough to cry over it....)
In short, I start fantasizing about Tel-Aviv, and air pollution, and how glorious it must be not to breathe in pollen. The scent of diesel fumes changes in my imagination to the heady scent of perfume....
You get the picture. Yes, I know there are all kinds of antihistamines out there, but I don't like to take them. The side affects are worse than the runny nose.
The one thing that saves me is the inevitable chamsin (hot, east wind that brings in the fine dust of the dessert) that most women dread, because it ruins their clean windows. When I hear that wind howling, I just imagine all of those pollen producing plants being burnt to a crisp, and I know that my short period of suffering is about to end.