Itching to Be Here

I mean that literally.

In fact, I am itching no matter where I am. For the past two months, my skin has been jumping out of my skin with a very mean rash  It could be anything from bites by unknown insects to sudden allergy to unknown triggers to an immune response to the action movie that has been my summer.

And just trust me, this is one case where photos will not improve the readability of my blog.

While I await some diagnostic test results, I ingest copious amounts of steroids. You know the expression we use to describe any noun intensified: "XXX on steroids?" I now move through my day like...like..like me on steroids. Last week, I woke up at 6, sewed until 8, walked the dogs, went to work until 4, mowed the lawn, weed-whacked, and blew the landscape clean of all detritus. Then I hand-picked the rest of the weeds and carted them off to the field. There was still an hour to go before sunset and I thought about building a railroad or an addition to the house, but couldn't find the hammer.

Get it?

Twice a day, I slather gobs of white cream onto the "affected areas," which means my entire trunk, arms, and lower scalp. It looks like Crisco--in fact, I think it may be Crisco. After all, when was the last time you bought Crisco? Wouldn't it make sense that General Foods has dumped their inventory onto a drug company?

Steroids apparently make the mind race.

Ok, I found the hammer. Be back when the addition is done.

Sometime tonight.