The Rusty Nail and the Spider

Yesterday I stepped on a big nail.

It was lying in wait for me right by the ironing board. Heaven only knows how long it had been there, hoping to puncture my foot, but since I am infrequent ironer, it may have been a while.

It got it's money's worth, however, because I stepped on it just right. It  imbedded itself into the sole of my foot and wasn't easy to pull out. When I did, I found that it was rusty. Extremely rusty.

Oh, good. Why do anything half-way, I say. If you're going to impale your foot on a nail, it really should be rusty in order to get the whole, "OH GOD, WHEN WAS MY LAST TETANUS SHOT??" experience.

I'd been to the local ER a few years ago for an unfortunate incident involving a shard of glass and my finger and was almost sure that I'd been given one then. And, since you only need one every ten years, that would have meant I was covered.

But 99% certain isn't enough where rusty nails are concerned and I called the ER for confirmation.

Guess what? An ER that makes you fill out approximately 17,000 forms before they will so much as look in your direction, and advertises its "state of the art" everything, told me that they couldn't locate this info for seven to ten days.

Thanks for nothing.

So, off I went to a walk-in facility to get a tetanus shot. The locale of the injection is swollen and very painful and I have no M&Ms to make into a medicinal paste paste to apply to the area.

Then today, while sitting down here, a big-ass spider scurried right across the computer screen. Quicker than I, he escaped but as he raced away, he looked over his shoulder and stared directly at my neck.

This means he intends to return and bite me on the neck within the next few hours. I know how spiders think and I am sure this is his intention.

If it had been this big, I would currently be on life support.

The only reasonable solution in this circumstance is to immediately put the house on the market and move out.

So, I going to do that right now.

Have a great holiday weekend. I love Memorial Day and always cry, under my sunglasses, at the parades. Fewer and fewer WWII vets are around so now the oldest crews are from Korea and Vietnam. The young men in desert fatigues both stir and break my heart. Enough war, world.

Let's concentrate on eradicating spiders that have the nerve to enter the homes of civilized (ha!) bloggers.

See you next week. Love, Me