Hick Is Tickin' Me Off

Thursday morning, I was out of bed at 5:30 a.m. for a trip to the bathroom. It happens quite frequently these days. I was up again at 7:00 for the same purpose. While sitting on the throne, I glanced down at my right shin.

 

Huh. What was that, a piece of lint from my black Doc Ortho sock? It wasn't there at 5:30. And I had taken off my socks when I originally went to bed. I reached down to remove the little piece of lint, and discovered that 

 

IT WAS A TICK!

 

Not just a tick sitting on my leg. A tick ATTACHED to my leg! It was already dug in! How had that happened in just a span of 90 minutes, while I was sleeping? In bed. Not out roaming the countryside full of weeds. 

 

I picked off the tick, which tried to run up my thumb. I caught him before he hit my wrist. For his trouble, he got wrapped in a square of toilet paper, and flushed. No. I don't pop those ticks between my thumbnails like some people prefer to dispose of them. And mummy-wrapped in that square of TP, I knew he couldn't swim to the side of the toilet and crawl up and bite my ample rumpus later.

 

Of course I told Hick he had infested the bed with ticks.

 

"No I didn't."

 

Said the man who mowed the yard, BARn field, and adjoining frontage, walked the dumpster back from the end of the driveway, worked five hours in the back yard of Pony House, and did a rural property walk-through with a realtor as a favor to Back-Creek Neighbor Bev. Suggesting that I must have picked up the tick from the dogs.

 

Hick also blamed the dogs for two ticks he found after grilling on Mother's Day, even though he never pets the dogs, and had been up to his Storage Unit Store at the flea market for six hours. 

"I gotta pick up some flea and tick medicine for them dogs."

I agree that the dogs need their flea and tick medicine. It's that time of year. But Hick also needs to realize that he's trolling through the yard and picking up ticks on his pants and shoes. 

The dogs aren't allowed in the bed, you know. Not even in the house.

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OH NO! As I was typing this on Friday afternoon, I reached down to scratch an itch, and discovered ANOTHER tick next to my belly-button! I wonder when THAT ONE hopped on...

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OH NO NO! After Hick went to bed Friday night, I was sitting on the short couch around 11:00, and bent over to scratch the back of my left ankle, and found ANOTHER tick hooked on! It was under the sock. Where did THIS ONE come from? I'd been to town, showered, put on new socks, and had most definitely not been back to bed. I suppose when Hick brought in his infestation, they hopped off his jeans while he was sitting in his recliner. Which is one end table away from the short couch.

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That's 3 ticks attached to me in less than 48 hours! I know that I'm much sweeter than Hick, but he needs to keep his parasites to himself! He was walking around by POOLIO Friday evening, siphoning water off the cover, so he must have picked up a new batch. This is when I miss our flock of 33 free-roaming chickens.

Maybe Hick can buy ME a flea collar...