I will admit to a little bit of gross factor.
I will say that my “I’m turning into a country girl” bravado has taken a step back.
I will acknowledge that I will be thinking about more than just “Am I going to be able to make it all the way to the barn without tripping and dumping these two buckets of water all over me?” the next time I have to feed the mules.
I know that I should have thought of it before now.
I realize that I was in denial.
I understand that I need to use this as a teachable moment for the girls.
When the Country Boy asked me for some items so that he could remove a tick from an area that I would have thought was totally immune from tick issues, I felt like I need to get into the van and drive to the nearest Starbucks to immerse myself in city-ness.
Yes, he spent days in the woods hunting, but this little…um…now big guy probably wasn’t a Kentucky souvenir. That means that he got it since being home. And, considering I am the one spending more time in the barn and out on the farm these days, that means I am a fertile target for ticks.
Newest item on my Christmas list – a bubble suit that those haz-mat guys wear because I have to believe that if hazardous materials can’t get through, than it is tick proof.
Plus, the mules and the dog seem to be creating quite a bit of “hazardous materials” of their own that I always need to avoid…