The Fourth

Clayton and I decided to name the fireworks we watched this fourth of July. What that means is, I said, “Let’s name the fireworks!” Silence. “Come on, let’s do it!” Nothing. “Fine. I’ll do it.” Seventeen names later, Clayton chimes in with “Pin Worm.” Brilliant.

 Other notables were Starburst, Rainbow Sprinkles, Pinprick, Space Invaders, and Disney. Next year, I think I will make it more fun by either making it a drinking game or making all the names R-rated. Pinprick is slightly suggestive, but only in a PG-13 kind of way.

 During the course of the show, a vile mysterious insect bit me before I had a chance to swat his venom-touting fangs into a blazing, Roman candle death. In reality, I didn’t even feel it and only noticed that I had been bitten when we were in the car on the way back home. The area around the bite was getting noticeably larger and more swollen. On Sunday, it started turning red. And then redder. By Monday morning when I woke up, it was twice the size it had been when I went to sleep the night before. And that’s when I might have started freaking out. I woke Clayton up to get his expert opinion, but it was 5am and I didn’t know if his confused one-eyed squinting meant we need to get you to the emergency room asap or take a Benadryl and turn the light off, woman. I assumed the latter, knowing that if my leg ended up getting amputated this would be the exact moment I would reference every time I attached my plastic femur to my hip bone.

 I decided to see my doctor on Monday, and, not to scare the living crap out of me or anything, she recommended I get a tetanus shot and start treatment for Lyme disease. Anyone who saw The Real World: Seattle does NOT want to hear they might have what crazy babbling Irene had. Also, I don’t want to get bitch slapped. I’m not saying the two are related, but just in case, I’m not going to be waking Clayton up before 8am for the next several weeks.