Crestfallen.nu

Seven is lucky indeed.

Seven. The number I happen to be obsessed with. Seven. The number of things I need to list before the list is complete. Seven. The number of bites I have on my legs. Seven. In less than 10 minutes.

I went outside for a little while (it’s freaking cold for it to be August, by the way, but that’s another letter to Mother Nature), and I walked by the tomato garden, and saw some ripe tomatoes. I didn’t want to see them sit there and rot, so I started picking them. Now, that proved to be a bad thing while wearing shorts. I’m picking and picking, and dropping some of them because I decided that I was going to do it all in one shot. I couldn’t; there were too many tomatoes. I put the first batch in, and went for the second round. My legs were starting to itch, but nothing too alarming–maybe one or two places. While picking the second round, more places started itching and I started scratching. It would have been annoying otherwise.

I put the tomatoes down, and saw that the tomato basket was filthy. I took the other tomatoes out (the new batch wasn’t in there yet), threw out the rotten ones, and washed the basket out before putting them back in. All the while, I’m scratching the holy hell out of my legs. After doing all of that, I took a look at my legs. Bitten. 6 times. Then I looked at my arms, and I got one bite on my right arm. There was one time where I had 25 mosquito bites, but that was in two weeks, and it was in a hot climate. I got bitten 7 times in the matter of minutes. Are they mosquitoes, or something else more sinister? I don’t know. But I was like “what the fuck” after looking at my legs, which are naturally black, turning into an ashy white. They still itch and it’s been an hour.

Note to self–don’t wear shorts while picking tomatoes. Bad.