Cursed

Cursed

 

Last week, I got something I hadn’t had for a very long time. Something, I didn’t think I would ever get again…No, not an erection…Shut-Up!

I trimmed my mother’s hedges…No, that’s not a euphemism…What’s wrong with you people today? I’ve been doing the hedges at her house for years, because I’m a good son. Also, because she has a way of making you feel guilty for not doing things.

Anyway, there’s usually some vines in there which appear to be poison ivy. I got a rash from it once when I was about eight or nine and never had it since. I’m immune…or at least I thought I was.

When I was finished, my mother said to me,

“I hope you don’t get poison ivy.”

“I never get it.”

That should be the end of the conversation, shouldn’t it? For normal people maybe, but not that crazy lady. She was relentless. I brought her back to my house for dinner. Every three minutes in the car,

“I hope you don’t get poison ivy.”

Between bites at dinner,

“I hope you don’t get poison ivy…”

“You’re wishing it on me!”

Then the final step was when my sister showed up and piled on.

“I hope you don’t get poison ivy.”

“I don’t get it.”

Then my sister said,

“You know you’re body changes every seven years.”

At that moment I could actually feel the pinging on my forearms as the rash began to percolate.

So, they cursed me. Now, I’m dealing with something I haven’t had since I was a kid. Trying to get it to clear up fast, I looked into home remedies. Do you know what came up first?

“Urine.”

That’s right, urine. So, if I want to get rid of this itching faster, I can pee on my arms. I’m not quite there yet.

What really helps is digging my fingernails in and going to town. That’s when my wife scolds me,

“Stop scratching! That’s how it spreads.”

That’s been my main concern. Trying to keep it from spreading to sensitive areas. If I touch my arms, I have to wash my hands before touching other places.

There are certain areas on your body, you can’t be digging at in a public place. Oh, I know, I could scratch my nuts in the middle of a Wal-Mart and nobody would look at me twice. That doesn’t make it right.

Come to think of it, maybe I can go to Wal-Mart and pee on my arms. I’ll just say I was aiming for the potatoes.