As I sorted through images to find just the right one for this post, I stumbled upon the following:
I found the image strangely heartening.
The fact that the ticks are cavorting around on top of a dime means that they are probably at least mildly interested by money, right?
So, maybe you can pay them to leave you alone?
Like bullies who take lunch money off cowering schoolyard unfortunates.
Like all those mafioso-types in films who say that it would be such a shame if something happened to your very nice place of business- such as, maybe, an intense, fuel-soaked inferno tragically burning it all to ashes. And maybe you would give a small sum to help them make sure that such a terrible thing would never come to pass.
Like that?
I would certainly give ticks many, many dimes to leave me alone in the future.
One run-in with Lyme disease is all a person really needs, thanks very much.
On Thursday night, I felt a bit tired and took some Advil.
By Saturday afternoon, I was in the hospital emergency room with a fever of 104°F.
I never even saw the one that got me. It was apparently a kamikaze ninja tick- it snuck in, bit me behind the left knee and then ran off back into the mysterious forest from whence it came.
Creepy little bastard.
I spent two nights in the hospital. The first night wasn't too bad- I was quite delirious and hardly remember it. What I mostly recall are vivid hallucinations about a tiny black kitten made out of crumpled paper.
There was also a turkey riding around in the back seat of my dad's pickup.
By day two I felt lots better, though weak. But I was certainly alert enough to enjoy the amusing company of my roomate, a rather excentric old lady. She shouted quite a bit. And when she wasn't shouting, she was burping and farting. It was kind of hard to decide which was worse. While she was yelling, I'd wish she'd shut up, but then when she did, what followed was no day at the park, either.
I wish to god that I was making this all up, but sadly, it is all true.
The kids came to visit me at the hospital. They regretted that they hadn't brought a bunch of limes. they could then scatter them across me as I lay in my hospital bed and take a photo that could be captioned in a humorous fashion:, such as: "Poor mom has Lime disease"
The loling would have been endless, I am sure.
At any rate, I am back home now, taking antibiotics and trying to rest a bit.
And I'll be keeping some spare change in the pocket of my robe...just in case.
BTW- Happy Fourth of July!!!!!!
