So, Joshua STTN last night. Woot. And now that I’ve said that, he probably won’t do it again for four months. Awesome.
Anyway, the fact that he STTN does not mean that I woke up this morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and wide awake and remained that way all day long. In fact, I’d say I was only awake through about lunchtime. And then I had duty in the courtyard where we should’ve been handing out surgical masks to students and teachers to protect against tree cooties (aka, pollen. That horrible, miserable, yellow haze that has descended on us all.)
Pollen basically exhausts me. It takes everything in my body to fight the histamines, or the antihistamines, or whatever the process is that keeps me from sneezing my fool head off.
So, that’s the explanation for the story I’m about to tell you. Keep it in mind.
Dan did some yard work this weekend. I had grand plans to help him pull weeds but Joshua had other ideas. He wanted to be held. I couldn’t bend over and pull weeds and hold Joshua. So I had to go back inside (which was probably better for my pollen-hate anyway).
That meant that Dan had to pull the weeds. And in pulling the weeds, he managed to get poison ivy. On his arm and his forehead. (Just one strip across his forehead. How does that happen? I don’t understand. He got it on his forehead the week of our wedding, too. It doesn’t make sense to me. I love you, Dan.)
And there was this other strange spot that appeared on Monday. It was sort of flat in the middle, and black. And there was a red ring around it. And he said it itched. It didn’t look like any sort of bite I’d ever seen, but we assumed that must be what it was.
Until it started oozing on Tuesday. And he Googled. And had MRSA come up as a possibility as to what the mystery dot on his arm was. (And people, if you don’t know what MRSA is, and I admit I wasn’t sure what it was either, don’t Google it or you will convince yourself that you have it and are one step away from losing a limb. Especially if you look at pictures. Ew.)
So he made an appointment to go to the doctor to have it looked at. I mean, it was oozing. And red. And black. And sort of angry looking.
***Here’s where to beginning of this post comes into play. Remember that I’m exhausted from my pollen-fighting superhero duties, mmkay?***
Here’s a somewhat accurate retelling of the email exchange that took place after he got back to work after his doctor’s appointment. The only thing missing is pictures of my face. And if I didn’t look like I’d been beaten up by Mr. Pollen Man himself (and if it weren’t 10:00 at night and my makeup weren’t smeared down my face and my contacts were still in and my hair weren’t pulled up and still looked halfway done) then maybe I’d take pictures to recreate my facial expressions. But you’ll just have to use your imaginations.
Dan’s email to me: “Back from the doctor. Just poison ivy. Cortisone shot to the cheek. Love you, Me”
My face: OMGWTFBBQ A SHOT TO THE CHEEK OMGOMGOMG. OUCH.
My email: “OMGWTFBBQ A SHOT TO THE CHEEK OMGOMGOMG. OUCH.”
Dan’s email: “Not the cheek above my shoulders.”
My face: D’oh!
I am not normally this airheaded. I am, however, certain that my husband shook his head and laughed at my reaction. The first one. And probably the second one, if he’d seen it in real time. And I’m glad that I can laugh at myself, too. And now you can all laugh at me. And I’ll be too doped up on antihistamines to care.