last night while watching lost in my tv illuminated living room, i got the itches. i saw something on my arm in the dark, so of course i start picking at it. i thought it might be a bit of chocolate from the burnt cookies my husband made, but whatever it was, it wasn't budging. i pulled at the sucker then went into the brightly lit hallway to investigate. i screamed and dropped it. i was a live and wriggly tick! it landed on my shirt and i screamed again. i flicked it off and began disrobing on my way to the bathroom. i called for my husband to help me thoroughly search for any friends and family that might have also moved in. we found no more ticks, but i kept checking all night just to be sure. i still itch.
of all the time i spent in the tick infested johnson grass of rural texas and arkansas, i never would have guessed i would have got my first bloodsucker from a museum in massachusetts. although, i would like to blame that creepy
big baby at the
de cordova, it more likely came from one of the trees i couldn't resist climbing under or just maybe one of
Ria Brodell's sodmonsters, but we'll never know.
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