Yep. Sounds absolutely scandalous, doesn’t it?
It should. I’m house- and pet-sitting for friends this week, lovely home about eight miles from my home. I spend nights there and come home to my place to work in the mornings. I bring Tucker, the dog, with me.
Tucker, if you are interested, is a sharpei-golden retriever mix.
On Tuesday, I decided that what I really wanted to do, while the weather was so nice and moderate and dry, was to spray the poison ivy that’s threatening to take over my yard again. So I mixed up Round-Up (the only time I use this stuff is on poison ivy) and headed outdoors. A stroll along the driveway led to a stroll around the back yard, which led to a stroll in the woods…
Tucker has come back with ticks (so much for the value of Frontline) and I, my friends, am covered in chigger bites. My waist, arms, legs…
Yep – definitely worthy of becoming a cuss word. Forget those words alluding to bodily functions – let a new generation of profanity arise, founded in disgust over objects not wholly-enough separate from ourselves: CHIGGERS.
Next new cussword: tobacco hornworms!