Itchy Shirt Search

ugh. Fatigue is setting in. Motivation is screeching to a halt. And I'm still looking for the poison ivy shirt. With every item of clothing that I pick out of the basket to place in the washing machine, I have to be getting closer to "the shirt".

You see, my husband helped a friend attempt to reclaim his backyard and has gotten a case of poison ivy rash. I have washed the shorts already, several times in fact, by themselves, in hot water. But, for reasons that remain unknown, I have not found the shirt. There is one more load of laundry in the basket and I am sure it is in that pile.

I'm getting itchy just thinking about it.

I have a few mosquito bites on my legs and they are being activated, as I like to say, by the mere thought that this shirt, in all of its poison ivy glory, is mingling with clothing. My clothing to be specific. When I find the shirt, I think I will throw it away.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. I do not have poison ivy. The bites are uniting with their flora brethren. My husband and I sit on the couch in the evening and both try to ignore the desire to scratch our legs off - marital bonding has gone awry.

This is ridiculous. I sat down with the intention of avoiding my goal of walking on the treadmill every day when Katie takes a nap. I was going to pour over this entry and apologize to no one in particular for not writing in the past few days. I was going to take my time and let the treadmill slip my mind. Instead, this poison ivy shirt search entry is making me so very itchy that I have to do something distracting.

Thank you, poison ivy shirt, for keeping me on track. I hope that you enjoy your reward. Go ahead, it's at the bottom of the bin; you just have to reach a little further.