Don't go outside.

So I went for a short walk in some random small section of woods in Somersworth today. I was seeing if there might happen to be bike trails out there (there weren't). I immediately was swarmed by mosquitos, but kept walking. I walked through some very tall grass towards some beautiful marsh, and I figured I was probably getting some ticks on me, but soldiered on. 

The bugs got worse, and I kept walking, thinking there was a loop and maybe, just maybe, sweet trails would be around the bend. When a goddamn root tripped me and I flew to the ground face first, I finally had had enough. Running and waiving my arms frantically, I escaped the woods sweaty, exhausted, and covered in mosquitos. 

And ticks. In fact, more ticks than I ever thought could be on one human being. By the time I got in my car, I had already removed 13 from my legs and socks. When I sat down, I felt another walking up my leg. While driving, another. And then 2 creepy green bugs that I've never seen before and looked like mini grasshoppers starting crawling up my other leg. I lost it, and, driving out of control and screaming, I finally got home. When I took off my shoes, I was greeted with this:

6 more. Then I went through my shoes, and I couldn't believe how many there were. Every time I thought I was done, I found another buried in my shoe or tangled up in my shoelace. Upon taking off my shorts, I found more. And even after I was done combing through every last piece of clothing, and I stood shaking and naked, slapping away bugs that weren't there in psychotic paranoia, I STILL FOUND ANOTHER, hiding under my back pocket on the inside of my shorts. The final count combining what I took off at my car and killed violently on my porch was 33. 

33 ticks, from like 25 minutes of being in the woods. Don't go outside.

Ever.

Death zone


NOTE: 2 days later, Josh rode in my car and had a tick on his arm when he got out, meaning there are more ticks still in my car. YES!