Bite me

I was mildly bothered by something on my back. So I went to a mirror, lifted my shirt, and had a look. And there was the little critter, happily doing whatever it is ticks do when they attach themselves to folks like me who should not be surprised that this one found me, what with all the time I spend in the depth of the woods in search of that perfect blue stone.

I brought my little Tick-Off tool to G, who lifted the tick. I drowned it in alcohol and immediately got on the computer in search of any photograph of a bull's eye rash that even remotely compared to mine.

I'm fairly certain my little frien-emy was a dog tick and not the dreaded deer tick. But I will err on the side of caution and take the little culprit to the vet on Monday so I can be certain. I insisted that G document my bite site so I can make sure it isn't growing. Into a bull's eye rash. Good grief, that's all I need.