Cursed by Internet outages and a raging case of poison ivy on my left hand, I’ve fallen behind on my blog posting. Funny thing poison ivy, I never even touched a plant, just petted my dog.
In the darkness I could not yet see the overnight progress of my poison ivy, but I could feel it. I ran my hand over the modeled bumps and blisters. My thumb and first finger are stiff from swelling. Prickles, like the feeling returning after a hand or foot falls asleep, aggravate. Day four, just as predicted, is the worst. I turn over to vaguely make out the dense fog outside my window in the early morning light. I’m always a little relieved to find I have slept through the night without interlopers. No sleepy eyed child has negotiated their way into my bed. No offspring has used my own disarming need for sleep as a weapon to push past my defenses. I hear my dog rustle beneath my bed and sigh as she turns over. She has no idea the discomfort she has brought me via her simple need to roll in stinky debris in our yard.
Time for cortisone and coffee. It is Monday. Let the week begin.