I had the heebie jeebies.
All day long I felt a little tickle down the back of my arm.
It must be a hair.
But I couldn’t find it.
All day long I was swiping and smacking at myself.
But I couldn’t find the hair.
I was beginning to get the heebie jeebies, thinking it was a bug.
But there was no bug.
It was just an annoying, incessant tickle.
I changed my shirt, hoping that would solve the problem.
It did not solve the problem.
All day long I was distracted.
I had several zoom sessions, and I’m certain people thought I had lost my mind as they watched me flinch and squirm and slap myself.
I tried very, very, very hard to ignore it while I was on camera.
But I’m certain that someone must have witnessed my agony.
By the end of the day, I was feeling very Edgar-Allan-Poe-ish.
“And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?”
“Almighty God! – no, no! They heard! – they suspected! – they knew! – they were making a mockery of my horror!- this I thought and this I think.”
“True! – nervous – very, very nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?”
At any rate, the little tickle has stopped.
There are no bug bites.
Whew!
“Nevermore.”
Liz Brenner
Everyone has a story to tell.
Even you.
Especially you.
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