It wasn't me. You can't prove anything.


2007-01-04

Tick
"SPOOOOOOONNN!!!!"
No, the other kind of tick. So, there I was, walking around the house without a shirt on. Nat stops me and says "What the hell is that?" pointing at my upper right chest. I can't quite get a look at it because My head doesn't bend that way. "It's a TICK!" she announces like Roger Rabbit's wife when she spots the tank of dip. Neither of us know the proper method for removing ticks. Nat calls Bill. He is a hunter and likes camping. He said to get a good pair of tweezers and grab it by the head. Then pull. Make sure you get all of it or go to the doctor and get it lanced. I'm pretty sure Nat got the whole thing.
How disgusting is that? I wonder where I picked it up. It could have been anywhere. I wonder if I brought it in on my boots or jeans and it found it's way up from there. I suppose it could have been much worse.

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