Sons of an Itch
My dad had a lot of physical discomforts throughout his life which, for the most part, he suffered in silence with … except for one which I apparently have in common with him: The Itch.
It starts out with one aggravating spot that I try to ignore … but I eventually give in to the almost uncontrollable urge to scratch. Giving in is the kiss of death. It is a signal to the first, lone Itch to mass produce itself. Soon there are multiple hot spots (Dad used to call them the “Sons of an Itch”) and I am rubbing my back along anything I can turn into a scratching post and squirming and scratching around the house like a crazed woman.
“Benadryl! Where is the BENADRYL?” The Sons of an Itch like Benadryl. It makes them high and hallucinatory. I think that’s what the entire procedure is about … they are addicted to Benadryl and I am their tool to get it. Me, on the other hand, I hate Benadryl. It makes me verrrryyy sleeeeepy …. Verrrrrry Sleeeee …. Zzzzzzzzzz
Dont feel bad, I have the same thing. I think I itch from working with all that water mostly! We put a chemical in the water to filter out the dirt so that it doesnt clog the tools, but it makes ya itch!!! So I do the same thing by finding something useful to scratch with and more often than not, it’s Amy’s long nails that work the best!! Thanks for the smile ; )
Dad left us some strange inheritances. Yours the itch. Me the feet that won’t let me sleep because they want to be stood upon and walked upon – all during the night. I think I got the best of the deal even at that – because I am learning how to ‘trick my feet’ by stomping them as I sit in a chair. Eventually I fall asleep stomping…..and my feet seem to be exhausted too after a few hours of that. Sorry you got the ‘Sons of an Itch.’ but I won’t trade.