Catholic Girl in Sin City

I have been suspiciously healthy during my time in Vegas.

I can't even think of a series of sneezes that wasn't induced by a gust of dust or looking directly into the sun (not that I ever do that. *averts eyes*). The last time I coughed was probably more of a choke from Diet Coke going down the wrong pipe. And the flu? What's that?

In the real world — you know, a real climate with humidity and weather change — I can at least count on the seasonal cold. I also work in newsrooms which rival nursery schools as germ incubators. But I have been the tip top of health out here.

Something has to give.

Well, I can think of one minor thing.

The lack of humidity never really bothered me. My hair has never looked better and I appreciated not sweating through my shirt after stepping out of the house.

I didn't notice things were up until I realized I haven't been able to produce tears in a while. Nothing emotionally tragic has come up (although I would LOVE to know where I will be in the world post-Jan. 1) but I was watching a Lifetime-caliber movie the other day and I couldn't cry. I sat there telling my brain to kick itself into emotional gear and let me cry. Nothing came out. Not a single tear.

I winked. I squished my face. I tried thinking of hurt puppies and my impending student loans kicking in.

I'm a journalist. I didn't take this lying down. I just dialed up an opthamologist and had a delightful chat with a nurse in his office. Cheryl told me that the desert air dries our eyes so much that when we produce tears, the eye just soaks up the moisture on spot. Air conditioning and no humidity don't help the cause. She said a lot of people ask about this and was especially jovial while sharing the little info. She just suggested I get Visine.

Her generous sparing of time could have moved me to tears but, you know, I can't.

Maybe I'll just rent "Steel Magnolias" this weekend and cry like my entire family was eaten by a T-Rex like I usually do.