questions
I wish I were exaggerating about the room.
But I'm not.
I'm also not exaggerating about how many questions the infectious disease people ask.
We go over the usual questions- viruses, travel overseas, IV drug use.
When that doesn't work we move on: kitchen renovation? the house flooding last year? the 4,500 ticks that held congress on Rico's raspberry bush? pets? neighbors with pets? neighbors' pets who might be overly promiscuous? suspicious birds who might be cooking meth in the maple tree outside of our window? do we know any storm troopers? are we familiar with the cruciatis curse?
And then there is this question: Any contact with animals, or anything that might be considered out of the ordinary?
There is no way.
No answer to this.
Of course things have been out of the ordinary. That's one of the reasons we love each other - everything is out of the ordinary. We planned it that way. Rico just looks at me, so I start, "Everything?"
"Let's start with animals - everything you can remember."
"Ok, well we have this kinda Dr. Doolittle thing. We're not really afraid of much,"
"OK."
"Well, there's the dog, he's vaccinated.
A warren of bunnies that we nursed this summer.
A baby turtle we found.
A whole crap ton of parameciums and stuff that he waded into the pond to get, so that Mr. Tickles could have a comfy place to swim.
All of the mosquitoes in Mississippi.
A couple of mice.
Two pigs.
This herd of free-range goats we found living in an abandoned movie set on an island in an Alabama swamp.
A sea anemone.
Eight monarch eggs.
Eight monarch caterprillars.
Eight monarch butterflies.
A few horses.
A donkey that bites.
A starfish we found in the Gulf of Mexico.
Sand fleas.
Something we think might have been a giant jellyfish, but we only touched the top of it.
Ladybugs. Approximately 2,435,270 ladybugs.
Four stray dogs that we chased and returned to their owners.
A pack of Kentucky lorikeets.
Dust mites - we can't see them, but we know they're there.
Three chickens. But if nuggets count it's more like sixteen chickens.
A few toads.
A bullfrog - we think it was a bullfrog - we argued about it for a while.
Some stingrays.
A peacock.
A bunch of those blind crickets that you only find in caves in Tennessee.
Forty-two random spiders.
However many bats happen to live in the Mammoth cave system
Annnnnd all of the questionable organisms living in a sketchy restroom in a Missouri McStop."
The poor lady is scribbling furiously, she can barely keep up. "Any snakes?"
"God no! We're not crazy. There were definitely NO snakes!"
What the hell they are going to do with this information is anyone's guess.
Right now our biggest fear is that they will come back with nothing - that life will just keep being scarier than snakes.
But I'm not.
I'm also not exaggerating about how many questions the infectious disease people ask.
We go over the usual questions- viruses, travel overseas, IV drug use.
When that doesn't work we move on: kitchen renovation? the house flooding last year? the 4,500 ticks that held congress on Rico's raspberry bush? pets? neighbors with pets? neighbors' pets who might be overly promiscuous? suspicious birds who might be cooking meth in the maple tree outside of our window? do we know any storm troopers? are we familiar with the cruciatis curse?
And then there is this question: Any contact with animals, or anything that might be considered out of the ordinary?
There is no way.
No answer to this.
Of course things have been out of the ordinary. That's one of the reasons we love each other - everything is out of the ordinary. We planned it that way. Rico just looks at me, so I start, "Everything?"
"Let's start with animals - everything you can remember."
"Ok, well we have this kinda Dr. Doolittle thing. We're not really afraid of much,"
"OK."
"Well, there's the dog, he's vaccinated.
A warren of bunnies that we nursed this summer.
A baby turtle we found.
A whole crap ton of parameciums and stuff that he waded into the pond to get, so that Mr. Tickles could have a comfy place to swim.
All of the mosquitoes in Mississippi.
A couple of mice.
Two pigs.
This herd of free-range goats we found living in an abandoned movie set on an island in an Alabama swamp.
A sea anemone.
Eight monarch eggs.
Eight monarch caterprillars.
Eight monarch butterflies.
A few horses.
A donkey that bites.
A starfish we found in the Gulf of Mexico.
Sand fleas.
Something we think might have been a giant jellyfish, but we only touched the top of it.
Ladybugs. Approximately 2,435,270 ladybugs.
Four stray dogs that we chased and returned to their owners.
A pack of Kentucky lorikeets.
Dust mites - we can't see them, but we know they're there.
Three chickens. But if nuggets count it's more like sixteen chickens.
A few toads.
A bullfrog - we think it was a bullfrog - we argued about it for a while.
Some stingrays.
A peacock.
A bunch of those blind crickets that you only find in caves in Tennessee.
Forty-two random spiders.
However many bats happen to live in the Mammoth cave system
Annnnnd all of the questionable organisms living in a sketchy restroom in a Missouri McStop."
The poor lady is scribbling furiously, she can barely keep up. "Any snakes?"
"God no! We're not crazy. There were definitely NO snakes!"
What the hell they are going to do with this information is anyone's guess.
Right now our biggest fear is that they will come back with nothing - that life will just keep being scarier than snakes.
Comments