I think I wake up and mumble something about it being in the first aid kit. I open my eyes and see daylight, but I can't believe how tired I am. I decide I don't actually care what time it is. I'm going back to sleep.
Hoppie says, "Marci, wake up. I need you. This is serious." I open my eyes in reality this time to find hoppie bending over me holding a paper towel to his chest. The lights in the room are on, and the world outside is quite dark. It occurs to me briefly that I must not have been as awake as I thought I was a few seconds before when I thought it was daylight, but there's no time for that now.
Hoppie has managed to pick up a tick. It's about 3:15 in the morning. No wonder I was so fricking tired. He's been trying to remove it, for a bit and his arm is tired and he needs help. Or a pair of tweezers. I know I have a pair in the first aid kit I keep in my car, at least I think I do, but I wasn't going to go there if I could avoid it. So with the alcohol soaked paper towel, we work the tick out of hoppie, gradually. Hoppie speculates that he picked it up Sunday. I muse that it's awfully unengorged for a tick he's been wearing for awhile (research has now shown me it's a male tick. They don't do the cool engorgio trick.). Finally we have most of the tick out, but he just keeps hanging in there. Finally we extract him with a set of needle-nose pliers, and I clean around the wound and apply another layer of alcohol just on princible and the tick gets flushed. We think we got all of him although it seems a leg or maybe part of his pincers broke off, and that had to be extracted separately. And the whole time I kept thinking to myself, you all knew it was a bug-bearing garden of death. You thought I exaggerated the danger, but now you see that maybe I was understating it. We got back to bed around 4:30. It took me a long time to get to sleep. But when I did, I didn't have any nightmares.
I want to talk next about the joys of AIM forwarding to a cellphone, but I really need to get back to my work for now.