After today's junket to the great outdoors, I found two ticks on my hands. (At different times. On different hands.) So I assume that they're (you so infrequently get to use this next word correctly) literally crawling on the rest of me. Or I did. I threw my clothes in the washer and myself in the bathtub, so hopefully they're swimming instead. (Note to Terry: I captured and released these two ticks, too. The quality of mercy may not be strained, but sometimes it's really dumb.)
I'm more than a little creeped out. I've hiked places in the Lowcountry where the tick count was more likely to run to the dozens, but that was a long time ago and maybe you get habituated after a while. Or maybe unhabituated. I'm pretty definitely unhabituated. I don't like the darn things, never did, and am not developing a fondness with greater familiarity. I was relieved that the mosquitoes and flies which seemed to have taken over my favorite local hiking place (Congaree Creek Heritage Preserve) have moved on or died off, but am not feeling that the ticks are a good tradeoff. I think I'll stay here and play with virtual jigsaw puzzles instead. Parasites of the brain!
Sister Anne sent a replacement walker for my Dad which is an almost exact replacement for the old one, except the buttons work. It was reasonably easy to assemble, but I was glad to have the assistance of my friend Gypsye, especially as there were literally no assembly instructions. As her superpower is non-linear thinking, she drew on it to help admirably and new walker was assembled readily. So yay!
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