Tarnish

Inspirational song: Weird Science (Oingo Boingo)

I should know better by now, not to ignore the out of doors until the time of day the mosquitoes come out. Am I just getting more sensitive, or are these fierce little bloodsuckers stinging worse than usual? As I jumped and twitched, trying to water the container pots on the porch, I chastised the four-inch spider for not living up to his side of our bargain, which was to eat every insect in the Park, in exchange for me not killing him with fire, as my friend suggested.

While I sat around, waiting for the physician's assistant to call me back and tell me whether I was healing well enough (yes, there was reason for concern, but she says it's ok), I channel surfed. I admit it, I watched a couple of those shows that ask an awful lot of stupid questions, and provide very few facts to go with them. I believe today's offerings were about angels and monsters. It reminded me of one of those things that has been eating away at me for years, information I don't usually volunteer because it doesn't reflect well on me. One of the rites of passage in elementary school is a science fair project. In typical fashion, when it was my turn to do it in fifth grade, I waited until the night before, and stayed up until three in the morning to slap it together. But here's the deal: my subject was the Bermuda Triangle. Seriously. The Bermuda Effing Triangle. Okay, I was ten years old, and maybe the teacher who approved the projects thought it was funny, but why the hell didn't someone pull me aside and tell me that's not science?!? Or worse, is it because in 1970s Oklahoma, they didn't know the difference? I don't want that to be the case. Either way, that "honorable mention" certificate is a badge of shame on my otherwise academic embrace of science.

Yesterday, while the stinky little Ewok slept on my chest, and I tried to ignore the stench of brimstone, I should have given a little care to the science experiment occurring on my neck. I was more familiar with that smell that I realized. It was identical to the liquid silver polish I have used in the past, the kind that smells incredibly toxic, and turned my brown T-shirt tomato soup red where I spilled a drop. I looked in the mirror this morning, in the brighter light, and discovered my silver pendant was so tarnished, it's possible the plating completely burned off the loop. I will suggest to the techs at the shelter when I take Athena for her next treatment, that they should warn people not to wear silver jewelry around dipped animals.