When I was a lad, I loved being in the woods. I made forts, swung from a tree on Marty’s Hill (Marty put the rope up and got to name the hill – Marty also broke his collarbone swinging from the rope, so that too) and had poison ivy 3-6 times a summer. Oh how times have changed.
This is my ankle.
I get bit by mosquitoes, on average, every third second I stop moving. At one point two summers ago, I had 23 mosquito bites on me. I also have OCD tendencies, so I scratch them open to keep them from itching me into the nuthouse, so there’s that also.
Yesterday, my son decided the party started at 4:50 am, so I got up early and finally got him back down. I was up, so I took the dog for a jog…which sounds like Dr. Suess. I need to read a real book soon. As we ran down the street, at one point I noticed a white tail glowing next to me, just three feet away. It was a skunk, with it’s balloon knot pointed right at us. By the grace of merciful God, it didn’t spray. OH BUT THERE’S MORE! Later last night at 10:15, right when the kids finally fell asleep, the cat busts in the room – smelling of skunk. I spent the next 55 minutes trying to catch the cat to get the smell off, while my wife tried to figure out how to get the smell off. Luckily it wasn’t a direct blast, but I opened the back door and it was still a cloud of stench, much like a music festival in July. This is now me when I see a skunk.
I have resolved the only time I will go outside is to get to a liquor store or if I see Seal Team 6 sweep the area with pesticide and Claymore mines.