I'm waiting for the third shoe to drop.
Yes, I know it's the other shoe (since shoes come in pairs), but then again "they" say misfortunes come in threes.
First, I got caught up in a brag. Jim told me there was poison ivy in the patch of back yard I'm trying to clear of ground ivy and honeysuckle vines. I said "I know, I saw it." I donned long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, gloves, and knee boots before pulling the first vine. I was being careful, right?
And, I informed him, I''d never had poison ivy. In. My. Life. In spite of playing in the woods as a child, picking wildflowers in the spring, berries in the summer, or colorful foliage in the fall. Sinusitis, yes, but no itchy rash.
As if Mother Nature heard my boast, she flung it at me. I saw what I thought was a bug bite on my wrist. I'm very allergic to mosquito bites, so figured the red, itchy swelling was just that. Then I started itching in other places. Little blisters formed. The itching grew more and more intense and spread over more and more of my skin.
To give Mother nature even more of a chuckle, when I called my doctor I discovered she had left. I mean left the county. With no warning. I was told to come in and pick up my records and good luck finding another doctor, honey.
Trying nowadays to find a doctor who not only takes new patients, but also accepts Medicare is like searching for one particular grain of sand on the beach.
I finally found one, but couldn't get an appointment until late August.
I hope by then the poison ivy will be but a distant memory.
So you see, it's no wonder I'm looking fearfully over my shoulder for the last blow of the trilogy.
I'm afraid to guess for fear it might come true.