It has taken longer than usual this year, but I have finally gotten my annual case of poison ivy. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem to be a large batch of it this time, but even a little dot of a rash gets itchy enough to make me think about lopping off my arm.
Usually I get poison ivy sometime in the Spring, because after a long winter I get really excited about the idea of being outside, so the first time it gets warm I’ll just run off and start rolling around in whatever foliage happens to be handy.
This year I’ve done a better job of avoiding these plants, but I am just terrible at recognizing them. Sooner or later I always end up coming in contact with it, and then I’ll start getting these nasty puss-infested, oozing, itchy, red, blotchy, scabby, festering rashes. Sorry if you were eating.
These things itch the worst when I get up in the morning and take a shower. The hot water seems to really make it itchy, and I just want to scream. Actually, what I’d really like to do is to hire three or four very tiny people – in the neighborhood of two or three inches tall – and I’d give them each a little teensy, metal rake that they can use to scratch me for a few days. I’d give them occasional five-minute breaks, but I’d definitely keep them working around the clock.
If you know any people in those dimensions, please send them along to me with a cover letter and references. No calls, please.
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