A pox is upon me. Quite literally.
Did I ever tell you that I've never had the chicken pox? Well, I haven't, until, you know, NOW. More than three decades old and I have the chicken pox. I live alone and I have the chicken pox. I just got two special deliveries (Team Ex-Boyfriend is Go!) so I am all set with oatmeal bath, comic books, and DVDs. Food is another story, since we're in the middle of blizzard #396 of the season, and I don't want to endanger any more lives by sending others on errands. I don't feel that bad yet - I mean, I feel ill, like I have a head cold, and I'm a little itchy, but I can control myself and not scratch. It can only get worse, though. I only have a couple of spots on my face, yet (I have tons on my torso).
When I went to the docotr this morning she had me wait outside in the car, and then she came outside and into my car to examine me. So I had to lift my shirt to show her my pox, sitting right there in the parking lot in the snow (with the car motor running - I'm not crazy). She was amazed that I had never had them before and that I had never gotten vaccinated. I think adults aren't asked about chicken pox immunities until they're pregnant or about to be, or are going to have close contact with young kids (kindergarten teacher, say). Since I'm on the road to spinsterhood and I work with grownups, a doctor has never had a cause to bring up the subject. (Plus I heard that it might leave you open to shingles later. I'm just saying.)
So here I am, in my apartment for a week or so. Which means I will be staying inside this weekend, which happens to be the annual Western Mass Sacred Harp Convention. Dammit. I will be online a lot. Actually probably about as much as I am regularly (cough) but I will be in more need to human semi-contact. I am unclean! Unclean!
And if I ever find out which kid or kid's parent gave this to me, I am kicking his or her ass. A lot.