The summer between second and third grade I came down with a nasty case of the chicken pox. And by nasty I mean I had a total of 11 spots that didn’t really itch.
This summer I went on a cruise where I realized that mosquitos and other ankle biters don’t travel into the middle of the ocean. Yessss. When I got home I innocently sat on my stoop, like the true Brooklynite that I am. Without fail every mosquito in the tri-state area converged onto my legs. Kill me.
So now, between my peeling sunburn and my 493029 mosquito bites, which are red like Coke cans and hot, I find myself wishing to be that 7 year old with that nasty case of chicken pox.