It started at approximately 2 pm.
All was well in the office – I was working away when I announced, “Something bit me!”
*scratch scratch scratch*
Just above my elbow on my right arm, an itchy spot.
After more scratching and audible discomfort, a theory from a co-worker “Maybe it was a chigger.”
*scratch scratch scratch*
Very audible incredulous gasp.
“Do we even HAVE those?!?!? Gawd!! They look like shell-less hermit crab/tick/spiders!”
The probability that we have these is VERY slim considering a) the giggles that ensued after my question and b) the lack of vegetation in the desert.
But now I was even more itchy.
I floated the idea that perhaps it was psychosomatic. Just looking at that freaking picture made me want to scratch.
Suffice it to say, I’m highly suggestible and prone to empathetic reactions to my environment and yes, my imagination.
I’ll get that fear ‘whoosh’ sensation when someone is looking off of something like a rooftop or a cliff in a movie.
I find myself panicking and holding my breath when I’m watching someone else underwater or in a confined space.
I acknowledge this – I was leaving room for the itch to be in my head.
Which, coincidentally, is where it ended up.
It would not quit!
By 3:30 I was scratching my face, arms, tear ducts, eyelashes, ears and head.
By 3:31 I was wishing I could scratch the inside of my nose and wash the back of my eyeballs.
“I’m going to get some Benadryl.”
I’ve heard that Benadryl helps allergic reactions – not that I would know.
I am not allergic to anything.
I could roll in grass if I wanted to – during Spring, after eating peanuts, shell-fish, gluten and dairy while any hair adorned creature sat directly on my face and not have a reaction!
(Except for maybe, “Please get off of my face.”)
“Did you eat something different??”
No, I assured everyone that my boring weekday sandwich and chips were consumed and nothing out of the ordinary reached my mouth.
“Sometimes when you get older you develop allergies.” A female co-worker quipped.
So now I’m feeling old and itchy.
I scratched over to the gas station, ready to lay down big money for a mini-pack of Benadryl.
They did not have Benadryl.
Groan. *scratch scratch scratch*
They did have a box of generic “Allergy” pills that turned out to be overpriced, bright pink and useless.
I’m talking, seriously BRIGHT pink – I don’t think I’ve ever SEEN such pink.
Until the end of the day when I examined parts of my body.
I’m still scratching and am ready to remove my skin, turn it inside out and grate it with a rock at this point.
And on my elbow? A small bite bump.
Whatever got me – I am allergic to it.
If only I knew what it was.
It might turn out to be Wednesdays.
Ah college … the smell of new books, freshly
sharpened pencils purchased lap tops, and visions of professors and libraries …
Nic’s first day of classes went well. I came home to him smiling – feeling confident – a sheen of ‘eau de higher education/grown up’ glistening on his skin.
Then he had math.
I received a call at work approximately 10 minutes before it was time to leave.
“That math class is so stupid! The teacher doesn’t explain and I have no idea what PAGES we’re supposed to do!!”
“OK, calm down – we’ll talk when I get home.”
My little bundle of college joy was freaking out.
The entire way home, all the cogs in my mind were turning.
Tutor … I could find a way to get a tutor. He can find his math teacher before the work is due and ask for clearer direction. He has to pass or his grant will be due and payable! Who do I know that’s good at math?? Why does he stress out so quickly? What did I do wrong? He used to be good at math.
Considering the fact that my drive home is 10 minutes, these were a lot of thoughts. And now that I’ve typed them out, I think I answered my ‘why does he stress out’ question.
Came to the conclusion though, that unless he wants to succeed – it didn’t matter what idea ‘Momma’ came up with.
We sat and discussed this. He said he would find a way.
I have to let go. I can’t solve problems for him anymore. I can steer him back to the crux of the situation though.
“Do you still want a degree?”
“Then, you’ll find a way. If you want it, you just will.”
Inside I was agreeing with him though, that math does suck.
Now another bundle of joy story.
Friday, it was planned that I would accompany one of my nearest and dearest friends to collect her grand baby for the weekend.
I was happy to go along for the ride – besides getting to sniff baby head and bite little toes, the 45 minute drive was a great way to catch up with my friend.
We arrived at my friends mothers house and … OH! Look at this tree! It lives in her moms yard and when I saw it, I thought of Harry Potter, then of course, I had to take a photo.
Back to the story.
We enter the house and I headed straight to baby after saying ‘hello’ to friends mom.
You may only see a foot as I don’t know if the baby’s mom would be okay with some random person posting photographs of her daughter online.
I thought we were heading back to our town, but it turned out we were going to dinner.
I’m always up for dinner.
Long story short …
So we’re at the restaurant, and I’m remembering that not so long ago, the baby’s foot was a lot smaller. And the baby was doing all kinds of things baby couldn’t do last time I saw her.
“She’s getting so big!”
“Well, last time you saw her she was 3 months old.”
No way. Couldn’t be.
“It can’t have been that long!”
Apparently, yes it could have been that long – and my friend had proof.
Friend and friends mother exchanged glances and I knew, there was a very good reason they were certain of the last time I saw baby.
“That’s when we found out she’s allergic to animals.”
Color me guilty and embarrassed … but then, I turned it around.
“So! I will always be part of her story! She had a ‘first’ after being at my house!”
*groan* I know! It’s not a good first! I was trying to stay positive.
I looked at my friend and said “You’re welcome.”
The drive home was filled with more catching up – and baby fell asleep.
My friend and I were yawning – but she had one more stop.
“I’ve got to see if the tortoise is outside of the chamber.”
“Oh my gawd, we’re those old people who stop and look at things like ‘Worlds Largest Ball of Yarn’ on road trips.”
Then: “It’s dark, how are we going to see a tortoise?”
I needn’t have worried.
“What’s it made of?!?”
“Metal I think, get out and touch it.”
“I’m not touchin’ it. You’ll leave me here.”
“No I won’t.”
“Well, I’m not touching it.”
“You’re going to blog about this aren’t you?”
Yes, Denice – yes I did.