The Thin Skin Drama Queen
I have stories, many stories about poison oak, especially the episodes from the military and war games and my futile attempts at keeping poison oak in its place while I prove my military salt. Nevertheless, it will have to wait for another day, a day that I am willing to dive into a mundane and painful prose of reliving a hell that garners me little sympathy because it is just a little old rash. Do you know that many firefighters out here are hospitalised after fighting fires because that poison oak oil gets into their lungs. Ugh. When I was about six that happened to me when my father was burning trash, but where we were then, it was poison ivy or sumac that did it.
This time around, I suspect I got it from the dog. I’m careful not to touch any vegetation and stay along the sandy paths but he goes into the bush. Perhaps the oil stuck to his fur and then transferred to me when I rub his back. I will have to think of a way to wash him every day but he lives outside and it is too cold for him to be wet and we come back late and it is a mess.
I’m so miserable right now, I think I will crawl into my bed and die.
Anyway, for your entertainment I went out, found my enemy, and took a picture of it. It is only February, the soil is sand, and this shit is thriving among the dead brush! What is its purpose in the ecosystem anyway?