A shower. I just want to wash off all the sweat, grime and dust. And I would like to stop itching. I don't want to thrill you too much with my misadventures this week; but I have had a very crappy week so far.
While helping a landscaper on Monday morning, I slipped on some gravel and mud in the Perennial Yard and scratched up my knees (blood) and slammed my shoulder into a wooden table. The bruise on my upper arm is incredible and would be even more awesome if I didn't have a suntan. And it's only going to get better when it's multi colored. You know. Blue, yellow and green. Sleeveless shirts. My boss sent me home after I filled out an accident report.
Then, because the universe wasn't done with me yet, while watering in an area of the perennial yard pretty darned close to Monday's accident, I was swarmed by bees or yellow jackets on Tuesday afternoon. I got at least two bites while a customer shouted at me to "run". And because I am super allergic to insect bites, my upper arm---right below the bruised section--is now swollen, red, hot and itching like crazy. Yes, the stings or bites are on the same arm. I just want to scratch until my skin comes off. I did spray with a stop itch product and took Benadryl. My co-workers just stare and say--wow, that's really red and swollen.
My boss just walks by and asks what I have gotten into today.
Well, today everything was just ITCHING. And it's Wednesday. I know there are lots of people who love Summer. Not me. I tend to enjoy "looking" at summer from inside the house. BECAUSE, I haven't even gotten my summer full of MOSQUITO BITES YET. And more Deer Fly bites like the one on my elbow last Friday. Or Spider Bites. All these bites, swell up. Get really red. Get really HOT. And ITCH. And take forever to go away. And there is nothing so attractive as a 66 year old woman with swollen, red, body parts. Unless that woman is twitching with the desire to scratch herself raw.
So, now that work is over for today--I am heading for the shower. Then I am going to mend the large rip in my shorts. A nail on a table. As I walked past. Tore the hem. I have it stapled. In fact, the shorts with staples have been washed three times already (and re-stapled). The shorts predate the deer fly bite so this has all been happening in a 5 or 6 day time period.
I think the Universe should move on to someone else. I'm done. Move on.
1 comment:
Ugh, sorry about your terrible week. If I lived in your town, I'd mend your stapled shorts, I'm really good at creative mending. Thanks for your answer to my identification dilema, I'll let you know.
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