There's a horror niche that Hollywood, for some unexplained reason, has left untouched. Vampires don't make grown men wake up with night terrors, check their shadows or feel uneasy in their own skin. Woodticks do.
As we're on vacation (and stealing wi-fi from some unknown neighbor of our rented cottage), we've been enjoying the great weather and far-off-ness from the world. So today we went for a walk. Unbeknownst to me, I must have walked through a veritable haven for ticks, Minnesota's unofficial official pest. (What do you get when you cross the Minnesota state bird with the Minnesota state bug?--a Loon-a-tick)
I found the first one on my arm just after our walk. It didn't occur to me to look for others.
As I climbed into bed tonight, about an hour ago, Dan turned the lights off and I put my hand on my leg. I quickly closed my eyes and told Dan to turn on the light so he could get a bug off me. He turned the light on; I kept my eyes closed. It's another of my defense mechanisms--If I don't see it, maybe it hasn't really happened. The whole Doubting Thomas syndrome isn't always a bad thing, especially in relation to woodticks on my person.
After Dan took care of that one, a more thorough investigation led to the discovery of one more on the back of my knee. I'm pretty sure after removal of that one, which required matches, Dan had the heebie jeebies himself.
See? You're not even here, and I bet your skin is crawling, especially if you've been outside at all today. Be afraid; be very afraid.
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