I think the garden may just be off-limits until fall.
Thirty-one seed tick bites over the weekend. (Maybe they were chiggers. I don’t know.) Today I went out to fill the birdbath, since it’s supposed to get to be a hundred degrees, and in the time it took to do that, I got four of the little bastards on my ARMS. What the hell, man? (They must be lurking under the pineapple sage, where I had dropped the hose.)
And they itch. I have ripped holes in my skin kinda itch. I am spraying up with Benadryl and slathering with camphor and taking hot baths and cold baths and putting socks on to prevent accidental itching, and they are dire. (Oddly enough, wearing The Boots was the most comfortable thing, because there was absolutely no way to scratch them, and there was no chafing.)
The scars from this are gonna last for at least six months. God, I hate getting old.
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