I touched a tick this morning. A huge one. Subsequently, I lost my will to live. I have washed my hand 27 times, applied vast quantities of Purell and used that Mary Kay Satin Hands kit that has been sitting in my bathroom for 6 months to scrub away any skin cells that may still harbor tick molecules. But still, I *know* that my right hand has been tainted by tick touching. Ew!
My dog was also traumatized by the tick. Poor thing didn't even know it was there until I petted her and screamed like my hair was on fire. At least we are both secure in the knowledge that a fresh application of Frontline means that tick's days are numbered.
I had other things to say in my blog today, but I'm sure you understand that I need to spend some time in the fetal position under my desk trying to forget what a fat tick feels like. Gah.
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