I really, really wish this was an April Fool’s Day post. But it’s not.
It’s the sad, horrifying truth that I arrived home from home, well rested and excited to see Husband, only to find out from my dear sister that I may or may not have brought back some little souvenirs, compliments of a certain niece who’s name rhymes with banana.
That’s right: my sister called about 8 hours after my plane landed to say she was sitting in the waiting room of a professional nitpicker, and that I should have Husband check me out for lice just in case.
And despite feeling immediately itchy and paranoid, I kind of laughed it off. That is until Husband took one look at the back of my head and pulled a bug out.
PULLED A BUG. OUT OF MY HAIR. Do you know what’s WORSE than the horror of toenail clippings on the floor people??? Your husband pulling BUGS OUT OF YOUR HAIR like an ape.
Now we have no idea if it was an actual louse or just a gnat or even a piece of lint. But I didn’t wait to find out. I immediately started high-pitch screaming and ripped all of my clothes off and jumped in the shower, where I compulsively washed and scrubbed and scoured my head for about 45 minutes while sobbing uncontrollably. I then made Husband douse my head in vinegar, because I read that that might help, but it only went up my nose and seared my eyeballs.
That’s about when he emailed my sis to say “I have a hysterical pregnant lady in the shower who smells like a bad salad. Help?”
But there was no help to be found. Husband refused to share a bed with me. I stayed up all night googling “lice removal.” So the next day I went to the pharmacist and got a special anti-poux comb and shampoo, which was not really shampoo at all but some kind of non-chemical, silicone smothering agent that was the approximate consistency of motor oil. And I put that on my head, even though we couldn’t find any further evidence of lice. And I scraped my poor scalp to death with the comb, just to make sure there was no chance in hell that any living creatures could have survived.
And that, my dear readers, is why I have not been updating the blog this week. Because I’ve been running around picking at my hair like a cracked out meth addict.
In other news, I can’t wait for my next trip home!
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And that brings us to this week’s vocabulary lesson: the creepy crawly edition.
Pronunciation: poo (so yes, that shampoo is probably pronounced “poo-it”)
Definition: Lice. Plural of “louse.” Horror of horrors. As in,
“If my child ever comes home with les poux, I will probably just abandon her on the side of the road.”