Catchy title, huh? As much as I hate to disappoint, this post doesn't really have anything to do with butts. Well, it doesn't right now, anyway. With any luck, it'll stay that way. As some of my faithful readers may know, that's a little line from a song by Bell Biv Devoe. The song is entitled Poison. It appears that as I type, I'm battling a little poison of my own. One that I don't care for at all. Her name is Ivy.
I was weed eating the back yard last week; and, being the genius I am, I decided to do it in Crocs. I knew we had some of the old Toxicodendron radicans around the fence last year. However, I was under the impression we had removed all of it. Even if we hadn't, I've developed a pretty good eye for it. I figured I could spot it and avoid it. I figured wrong.
Luckily, it hasn't spread too far. I've got the usual ankles, backs of knees, elbows. Nothing (yet) in places I don't want to mention. (Not that I've ever had it there before. Okay, once.) The itching isn't too awful bad, but I tend to wear pants and shoes for work that do the scratching/spreading for me.
So, I'm going to Wally World tonight to buy some of the $40 a tube crap to end my misery. I've experimented with every calamine, caladryl, benadryl, ivy dry, ivarest , ivyblock, tecnu product on the market. I've even had a little success with some of them. But let me tell you, don't waste your money on any of that. If you have a run-in with my nemesis, break down and buy the Zanfel (or even a generic equivalent.) I broke down last year and bought some for the first time, and it is truly a miracle drug.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment