Since the world revolves around me, I'm sure everybody is just
frothing to hear how my birthday went. Please bare in mind that
the following is 100% true (you can't make this level of crap up)
The day starts off with the sound of happy Disney music in the background,
the sky is blue with soft, plump snow-white clouds overhead, and small woodland
creatures frolic on the lawn.
All is right with the world.
One minute later I start itching on my left arm. Then my right arm. Then both legs, especially behind the knees. I am immediately suspicious the Disney set-up was a huge fat lie designed for the sole purpose of lulling me into a false sense of
security. Plus I'm not seeing any cake.
MaryAnnageddon has commenced.
Turns out my body is quickly reacting to a *contact* allergy, probably from the weeding and gardening I'd done just two days earlier. Poison ivy/oak/sumac ...
it seems (once again)(did this two years ago)(not a fast learner) I must have gotten into something. I hate nature.
Wonderful BF had arranged to take me to Barnes & Noble for my birthday, followed by a fattening, yummy feast at Olive Garden. I show him my blistered, reddened skin and we both decide it's best left for another day. In playful reverie I smack my head and accidentally break my favorite (and only) pair of sunglasses.
As my skin is fair/freckled, blue-gray eyes, I am really sensitive to sunlight and wear/depend on sunglasses. Must go get new pair asap. Between bouts of scratching my rash.
Go outside, to the shed, to fetch a can of cat food to feed one of the ten-billion strays in the neighborhood. Imagine (seriously try) my horror (X ten) when I open the shed door to discover LIVE roaches crawling around inside near the door.
I feel faint & my vision dims.
I H.A.T.E. roaches (grew up in Fla)(where the little bastards are practically pre-installed in every residence). Now, before I go one step further, you must understand that I am nearly O.C.D. clean & tidy & especially organized. Hospitals are not as clean as my house, I'm a total freak and do not have tons of crap, decor, collectibles, boxes, food, trash etc laying about. Oh no. For some weird reason I and both my kids are virtually minimalists and, excepting books (which I store in air tight Ziploc bags to keep *pristine*) - have next to no excess of possessions. I could easily do the famous (infamous?) minimalist thing of living with only 100 items (it's pretty cool & some days am tempted to do it)(starting TODAY).
Where in the freakin' hell have these bugs come from, and - more importantly - why are they IN MY SHED??? I dunno for sure, but guess what? Everything stored in my shed is now *dead* to me, and I'll have to have it fumigated for certain. Actually, several people have said that roaches *travel* and could have been driven out of someplace else, and that this summer's heat & drought combined with last year's non-existent winter has made the insect problem near epidemic.
Happy Birthday to me!
Oh, wait, I'm not done. So, later, I'm trying to calm my *nerves* and go to lay down & curl up with a fresh new yummy book. Reaching up in bed to adjust my reading light, I accidentally put my thumb through the light bulb which then proceeds to shatter in a billion fragments all over my bed, blanket & pillow..
It's time to get up, quickly, check my face/eyes/hair for glass fragments, dispose of the large chunks of glass, avoiding the billions of fragments now hopelessly embedded in the sheets, strip the bed, shake out the bedding, etc and on and on and on.
Still no cake (which is fine by me, as my hand would now be too shaky to hold the fork steady).
A couple of tense hours pass, I go into the bathroom to RE-check my face/hair etc (remember what I said about being O.C.D. - you thought I was kidding - NOT) and I just happen to notice red bumps cropping up between my left eye and the inner side of my nose.
I GOT FREAKING POISON-IVY HELL RASH PRACTICALLY IN MY DAMN EYE!
(today it's partially swollen and yep, it's spreading just as fast as it possibly can).
Today is ALSO Saturday and the doctor's office is closed. Peachy.
Previously, two years ago when I last came into contact with poison-whatever, the
pharmacist told me it's 19 days from start to finish. And, he was 100% accurate. So, looks like I've roughly two weeks yet to go.
I sure hope I remember to also call the doctor Monday after I phone the exterminator.
I also sure hope to damn-skippy-hell remember to hide in my bunker next year when my birthday rolls around. If *they* don't kill me first.
*They* ... the universe, Disney, nature, I dunno but somebody's out to get me.
Ps - All the above was the pure, unmitigated truth. Feel free to *lessen* my pain by sending me big, boatloads of cash, the entire contents of Barnes & Noble, or maybe a few super-rare coins I can hock. If you're the lazy type, a blank check works just fine.
Pss - Just kidding. Totals.