Not Scratch 'n Sniff

With Spring in the air, the sound of hammers on roofs will be a sweet addition to the birds building their nests. Like it or not, every neighborhood will be visited by the ruby-throated roofer (or sparrow . . . whatever. This intro has gone way awry!) All that to say, like the roofers, "I've got shingles."

Okay, not the same kind. Theirs come from roofing material supply companies. Mine came from , uh, well, I'm not sure, but my doctor confirmed them Wednesday morning.

But that's the point: I don't know where they came from. I just found myself with them. I had chicken pox (or, as I've heard them called, THE chicken pox) when I was a child. I have a vivid memory of my mother covering me from head-to-toe in Calamine lotion, telling me, "Don't get that on anything. Now go lay down on the couch", and my being rather confused by that subtle parental misdirection. And the doctors were right: once you've had (the) chicken pox you're done. You won't get them again.

Then there's (the) shingles. You know, the "adult" reincarnation of (the) chicken pox that are not (the) chicken pox but stem from the same virus.

I've determined that diseases should be included in PETA's campaign in protecting those we share the planet with. Why? Because diseases are clearly intelligent life. They have a "survival instinct". For instance, (the) shingles are very contagious - before the rash becomes visible! That's right, you are spreading them before you are even aware you have them. That's ingenious - or insidious. Either way, they know that if they are only contagious when the rash is there, they would be eliminated by isolation.

See Spot? See Spot Run! Or, Run From Spot!

And I know why they call them (the) shingles: I desperately want a piece of shingle to scrape this rash with!!

"Mom! You got anymore of that Calamine?"

© Emittravel 2012