The other morning I woke up convinced that we had fleas in our house.  I don’t know if that is even possible since we don’t have carpet, but I had two little itchy bumps on my wrist.  The next morning I woke up with even more itchy bumps, mostly on my arms.  Upon consultation with my mother (who is also a pharmacist), it turns out I have poison ivy.   

I had undertaken yet another seek and distroy mission against my yard and once again, I lost. 

Last weekend, I spent six hours cutting and pulling the eight layers of regular ivy that borders vast swaths of my back yard.  I filled six yard waste bags and two big trash cans with ivy and a wide assortment of weeds and I barely made a dent. 

Somewhere along the way, I managed to rub up against or pull up a bit of poison ivy.  Then I managed to rub its’ toxic resin all over both arms and around my waist (probably while swatting the mosquitos trying to bite my back.

Damn poison ivy is itchy.  I have added Brush-B-Gone to the list of toxic chemicals in my yard.  I sprayed the hell out of everything near the poison ivy.  After another week or two, I will attempt to dig the (hopefully dead) ivy out by its’ roots. 

Never fear, I have researched my protection options.  I will slather my self with the supposedly miraculous poison ivy protectant, cover myself from head to toe in disposable clothes and gloves, then rub myself down with poison ivy soap.  If that doesn’t work, I will once again slather myself with poison ivy itch control medication. 

Did I mention that the Yucca plant is growing again?   I hate my yard.

September 11th, 2005 | Category: Home Sweet Home | Subscribe to comments | You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed