Candy flavoured horse urine.

That’s it. 

Although I’m not entirely sure what that combination would actually taste like, I think I’m getting close.

After I hit “publish” yesterday,  I went off to have a couple more tablespoons of Benadryl,  and that was my first thought. Why not leave it tasting like medicine?

It does seem to help,  and I could tell that it was wearing off at about four this morning when the swelling and itchiness came back to the point where it woke me up.

 

I’ve had a tune going through my head most of the day. 

 

 

The similarity stops at the itchiness though.  I can only imagine what falling into a patch of poison ivy would be like.  Gah!

 

So now Mr. Benadryl has a helper.

And no,  we won’t be describing things à la Tioga George.  There will be no Mr. Nikon or Little Miss Canon.

The helper is sort of helping.  It’s almost as if the itchiness is on the inside.

Meanwhile,  I went out this morning not much later than about six and sprayed the hell out of the little visitors.  I’ve seen nary a peep. 

Or buzz,  I suppose.

That wasp spray is awesome!  I can see using that instead of Mace.  “Oh I was just working in the garden there, officer.  Really.”  Not sure how it would work on a bear, but I wouldn’t want to be getting that aimed at my head.  Probably just piss off the bear.  That would be my luck.

 

Seems to me the last time I was bitten to this degree was a long, long time ago,  because I don’t recall ever having such a huge blotch of swollen skin.

When I turned the lights on this morning, it was a little bit of a surprise.

 

Sure glad I was wearing Mr. Briefs and Mr. Short Pants.  Although Mr. Long Sleeved Shirt would have been a better plan.

OK,  I said I wasn’t going to do that, but I lied.  Some sort of stream of consciousness nonsense.

 

Anyhoodle,  there was some shopping that needed to get done last night,  but first Kermit (he’s my “Dog-in-law”) needed to come out long enough to conduct a little business up the street.

Of course,  there’s lots to see on the street when you first come out after being cooped up all day,  so he didn’t realise at first that I was there. 

 

 

There’s no picture of me sitting and holding Travelling Companion’s purse,  so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

I don’t seem to recall, “And thou shalt sit outside the change room while she tries on clothes” in the wedding vows.  I guess I must have missed that part.   Sunday will mark twenty-three years from day.  All I remember is that I was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a rocking chair factory.  And I have the pictures of my pasty faced mug in our wedding photos to prove it too. 

 

But hey, going shopping meant I didn’t need to make supper, since we had planned to stop at the The Raging Olive after we were done.  It used to be “Carmel’s”,  which closed up at some point when we were away,  and then reopened as basically the same place.  I’m not sure what the story was,  but most of the faces are the same. 

Even the menu, which can be viewed on the website, is the same. 

 

Oh,  and besides it being the usual Friday with all the usual Friday chores,  I did manage to trim out the bathroom window this morning.  Another one down.

 

 

Not much I can do between now and Sunday for the “big lift”,  except wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it.  (True!)  I’ll be quite relieved to get that sucker in and foamed in place. 

 

As is customary,  the chances of me checking in over the weekend are pretty slim,  so I’ll catch you on the flip side.

Enjoy your weekend. 

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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