9 Jun

When I was a little girl one of my favorite movies to watch over at my grandma’s house was Alice in Wonderland (the Disney animated one, not the creepy made-for-TV one). I used to love how Alice would lie in the tall grass and sing that song about talking to the flowers. It seemed so romantic, disappearing in that lush greenery.

What I know now, that I didn’t know then, is that the tall grass she was laying in was probably stiff and sharp. It was most definitely dirty, and when she stood up she probably had about 50 ticks on her. Or at very least, that’s what would happen to me if I were to lie in my own yard right now.

The part that freaks me out the most is the ticks. I am not, and have never been, okay with things sucking my blood. Mosquitoes – nasty and irritating. Leeches – give me the willies. And ticks…well I hate them. I hate them, hate them, hate them. This has, lately, been a problem for me because the ticks are rampant in my yard this year.

Maybe it’s the weird weather we’ve had this spring, maybe it’s the fact that I live next to a giant field of nothing, but whatever the cause, there are ticks everywhere this year. We’ve put two doses of the tick repellent stuff on Lucie in the past month, and every night when I check her she has at least two ticks on her. I’ve found them hanging out on my door. I’ve found them hanging out on the wall in my entryway. I’ve even found one on top of my garbage can in my kitchen. It’s driving me insane to the point where it took me two hours to fall asleep last night because I kept imagining things were crawling on me. Husband doesn’t know it yet, but I foresee a weekend full of him spraying pesticides on our yard. Either that or he’ll be digging a ditch three feet wide and three inches deep around our property and filling it with gravel, as one website suggested, because I cannot, and will not, live this way much longer.


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