Yesterday I experienced first hand one of those Texas things that makes life spicier to a salsa-rrific degree. I mowed the top off a fire-ant colony that I didn’t know was there. In fact, I didn’t realize what I had done until my feet and legs began to burn with numerous pinpricks of volcanically heated acid. I left my shoes in the yard. I left my pants on the floor in the kitchen. My hands got bitten as I slapped at ants on my feet and legs. I went immediately to the bathtub and soaked my wounds in hot water. Now I am covered in little white bumps that sting and itch and hurt, and my allergic reaction to the bites makes me feel like I have a bad cold. So, there is the reason I have to do a lazy, short post again. Not just because I am basically lazy, or because I am hiding out from neighbors who were terrified to see me suddenly take my clothes off in the yard… But because fire ants gave me boo-boos.
Catch a Falling Star 