It's all fun and games until I get a tick.

Yeah, so when I got all "Hey, I'm going to quit my corporate life and go be a farmer!" I really didn't consider The Tick Factor.

Or the "Planting Strawberries in the Rain" factor.

Or the "Taking Midterms and Finals and Writing Term Papers" factor.

Or the "Those Shiny Red Boots Aren't Going To Be Too Shiny or Red Anymore" factor.

Or the "Do One Hundred Somethings Every Day That Scare The Ever-loving Crap Out of You" factor.

I just realized I could go on and on and on and on with this list, so I'll just stop here and sum it up by saying that, while I totally love this whole thing of school and farmy work and small business starting up and such, there were a lot of things that weren't readily apparent until they were, like, right there.

And then when these manyMANY things have become, like, right there, I have been trying ever so hard to just roll with it and not let my former corporate-y self freak out like a big fat puss.

So, last night rather than get all "OHMYGOD THERE'S A MUTHER EFFING TICK BURROWING INTO MY BELLY" and then run screaming to the kitchen to (very carefully) prise it from my belly flesh and then ritualistically pop it in half while giving it a very stern talking to about just who does it think it is stealing my blood and making a giant mark on my belly flesh before treating it to a trip down the garbage disposal which was run for a solid 30 minutes BECAUSE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW A TICK I...well, that's exactly what I did.

Also, I still have a belly ring? What am I - 17?

Because sometimes when you're trying all hard not to be a puss and prove to the world (and yourself - most importantly yourself) that this was a good idea and you're not going to puss out in the real world of farming and outdoorsiness, you hit The Tick Threshold.

People - I hate mother fucking ticks.

I have no beef with snakes. Or spiders. Or bats. Or bees. Or most bugs (unless they are the jumpy kind because THEY COULD JUST JUMP RIGHT ON YOUR FACE GAH). Or animals with big teeth. Or creatures with small pointy teeth.

But I do not like ticks. At all. I have absolutely no use for them and good god do they freak me out. Same goes for leeches or any creature that makes its living sucking the blood from my belly, for instance.

If they sucked fat, I'd be all for them, but no - they just go for the blood and leave my ample flesh alone, save for a big black mark of the beast.

The beast that is the tick.

Ugh. I'm just the grossest right now.

BUT - I'm also studying for my last final. My final final, if you will. Having completed two finals already this week, plus three final projects, many millions of hours of lectures (I'm sure it was at least a million), days of farm work and, you know, starting up that new business of mine in my, like, spare time or whatever.

So - while I'd love to be realizing about myself that I'm impermeable to all things that nature holds and be completely unfazed by something as small and insignificant and TOTALLY FUCKING GROSS as a tick, I'm not.

And, well, I'm deciding that that's OK. I can be a farmer and not like ticks. I'm sure there are farmers out there who REALLY don't like ticks, too. I mean, just because you grow vegetables and such doesn't mean that you're suddenly One with all creatures big and small, right? Or at least to the point where you get all, "Hey! Climb on to my body, blood-sucking insects, and take all you need! I'm just a walking 7-Eleven for you." or whatever.

I'm sure it's not like that.

So, yeah - if you're looking for me on the farm, I'll be the one in the not-shiny mud-covered red rubber boots, a big ole smile, sitting aboard the tractor NOT covered in ticks.

That'll do fine.