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Say, I could really go for a big weepy dose of poison ivy!

poison ivy

I don’t think it is poison ivy, actually. I was well aware of the clump of undergrowth I was sticking my hand in and it wasn’t ‘leaves of three’ or anything else I recognized. But you can react this way to many of Mother Nature’s beloved greenbabies, which is one more reason Gaia can kiss my ass.

The primary site is messy and scary, but it’s the secondary sites that are getting me down; any place this naughty forearm can sneak off to in the night — my neck, my chin, my pantyline, my left armpit — I’ve got a patch of misery. Milder than the mama patch, but MUCH itchier.

We had a transformer blow this morning, which tripped the fire alarm at work. I got to stand outside for forty five minutes next to my boss’s boss’s boss and several hundred of my choice cow-orkers, while I squirmed and jived and thought, “don’t scratch your belly…don’t scratch your belly…don’t scratch your belly…”

Eventually, topical ointments weren’t cutting it; I’m having temporary itchy patches pop up in places my naughty spot hasn’t gone NEAR. Free-floating histamines, I guess. So I bought some Benadryl on the way home — or, as I like to think of it, Coma in a Caplet. Diphenhydramine knocks me flat. They gave it to me for hives when I was a kid, back when it was prescription only, and it’s like weasel narcolepsy.

Took one half an hour ago; so goodbye, cruel world!

Hey, y’all have just read a 253-word essay by a weasel describing a rash. Isn’t the internet wonderful? Have a great weekend!

August 15, 2008 — 4:53 pm
Comments: 32