Chiggers.

You may recall that I've stated that the great outdoors either wants to eat me or make me sneeze. Last night was no exception. I went out at dusk to take the second photograph of the new sign. I wanted to get it over with, so I put on shoes but no socks. Then I came back inside and put my jeans on my bed. Resulting in this.

And this.

I've developed a bad habit of throwing clean laundry onto a corner of my bed. And throwing once-worn but still wearable clothing near that. It took me over an hour, with frequent breaks, to get everything off my bed so I could change the sheets.

Middlest very kindly painted my bites with nail polish to smother the little bozos. It helped somewhat. I posted this on Facebook:

The wonderful thing about chiggers?
A chigger's no wonderful thing.
I'm itching and scratching and itching
Momentarily, life's lost its zing.

Which inspired a number of comments regarding how to get some relief. Nail polish (check). Bath with bleach in it, for 10 minutes. (Middlest said no bleaching the lady bits. I concurred. My lady bits have had quite enough trauma over the last six months without my adding chemical burn to the list.) Chiggerex Benzocaine Ointment (it's the Sabbath). Skin So Soft (ditto, though I know a great Avon lady). Looks like I will be making a run to Wally World on my way to work tomorrow. And washing or re-washing approximately eight loads of laundry over the next several days.

In the meantime, I am cooking up some Trader Joe mini ravioli, because my stomach wants ice cream and I didn't buy any yesterday, so pasta with red sauce will have to do.