You know what’s the worst? Getting a bug bite on the palm of your hand. Why is that such a strange feeling? I can’t think of one good thing about a mosquito, but I can generally tolerate their existence unless they bite me on the palm of my hand or the soles of my feet. It itches so much worse and there’s no relief from scratching. Things just itch so much more violently on that skin. But seriously, is the skin on your palm different than the skin on the back of your hand? Is it the lack of hair?

And what could possibly be so helpful about the presence of hair when itching a bug bite? I don’t really see anything beneficial about hair in general. As pretty as my hair is, what’s the point? Sure, it keeps my head warm. But if I’m really all that cold, I still have to put on a hat. So why not forgo hair altogether and just wear more clothes?

Of course, we’d sort of lack that “human” look if we were completely hairless. Folks without eyebrows are just creepy, so if you take the rest of the hair away too, I’m guessing we’d start creeping each other out on a regular basis. And how would we know the difference between guys and gals? Well, okay that one would probably work itself out. For the most part.

But the point is, is something that appears to be purely decorative really worth the hassle? I mean come on, must I really spend half an hour every day in the care and maintenance of my various bodily hairs? If we just didn’t have hair at all, shaving wouldn’t be necessary. And who wouldn’t celebrate the end of that heinous tradition?

Of course, then all bug bites would just be the absolute worst. And the annoyance of shaving and styling may be annoying, but it’s way better than the worst!


Spiders and Roaches and Ticks, Oh My!

Today Hubby and I tackled the garage. We’ve lived in our current home for almost exactly 2 years now, meaning that the build up of detritus hadn’t quite reached the overflow point yet. But we’re having a garage sale. And those sorts of things generally take place in a garage. Or so I’m told.

Anyway, Hubby and I are not known for our cleaning stamina, so all should be sufficiently amazed at our ability to get from the house out to the garage with our willpower intact. This being a feat in and of itself, I expect some shock and awe at the fact that we actually went through (with varying degrees of diligence) every box in the garage. This takes on even more special significance in that every box housed not just our stuff, but a family of creepy crawly things. And I really hate insects. And arachnids.

Most prevalent were the spiders. They (and their icky icky webs) were everywhere. Crawling on everything. Hanging from the ceiling. Crawling up my legs. There was one moment right in the middle of a conversation with Hubby where I responded (seemingly) to him with, “Get. It. OFF OF ME!” There was (I SWEAR) a black-widow/brown-recluse/tarantula/camel spider cross breed crawling right up my leg and I was dancing around like a kid in line for a porta-potty. It was terrifying. I still shudder just remembering it. Of course, it fell off in my frenzy and ran away…pretty harmless after all. But terrifying nonetheless.

Now, the roaches were not much less terrifying, as it turns out they are quite proficient flyers and monstrously huge… corn-fed on whatever they eat that we must have plenty of in our garage. Hubby found a nest. A nest of roaches. The roach spray was helpful…needless to say I was safely indoors while all the spraying was going on. Half an hour later, though, they were still quite agitated. Flying everywhere, wanting to land on my head…ugh. I smashed at least ten roaches in as many minutes. Disgusting. But at this point we’d cleared out all the boxes and I was sweeping up the dust and dirt and roach carcasses. I couldn’t see anymore roaches at this point, thankfully, because this was the point when Hubby decided to tell me that roaches sometimes bite. BITE!!! This is beyond revolting. But I was too close to getting things all wrapped up in the garage to give up then.

It was at this point that I had to start organizing for the garage sale. We got our dining table and deck table out into the now semi-sparkling (okay, still fairly buggy and dusty) garage and arranged what basically amounts to a bunch of junk (unless you are interested in buying – in that case, it’s all priceless, I swear) on them.

Then came the tick. I can’t tell you how happy I am that the tick wasn’t on me, but on Hubby. I love Hubby dearly and hate that he had a tick on him, but he handled the situation a lot more stoically than I would have been capable of doing under the same conditions. He was scratching what he thought was a bug bite on his leg when he felt something “squishy” which he quickly determined was a tick. It fell off his leg and onto the floor (we were back inside for the evening) so, brilliantly, he vacuumed the entire carpet since he couldn’t find it. Then he dug the “mouth” out of his leg. And I hid in the bathroom. Yuck.

But hoorah! The garage is half-way ready for our garage sale at the end of July! OMG guys! After a year of planning, I think this time it MIGHT actually happen!