Well, do you? Do you know what’s bugging Mrs. Hillbilly Mom? It’s not a rhetorical question. It’s a real one. I was hoping somebody would know. You there! Quit ducking your head and refusing to make eye contact. I will call on you because of your extraordinary effort not to be called on. Well? What is bugging Mrs. Hillbilly Mom?
I have the itchies. Don’t know what set off my symptoms. I have a bump in the middle of my forehead. One above it near the hairline. One on my left jawline. Another in front of my left ear. And one on the back of my neck. ITCHY!
Don’t make me jump to conclusions. I did not lay down with dogs, so I couldn’t have gotten up with fleas. My Juno contact has been curtailed, what with my unfortunate comings and goings in dress-up clothes this past week. So don’t go blaming my sweet, sweet Juno. I haven’t been around the pupils, what with being off work. I only have two suspects left.
One is actually a multitude of suspects. THE HUGGERS! Let the record show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is not a hugger. My best ol’ ex-teaching buddy, Mabel, will attest to that. In a good year, I allow her two hugs. One at Christmas, and one on my birthday. All other hugs are off limits, except for Farmer H every now and then, and my boys when I can catch them. But last week I was wrenched from my no-hug zone by well-wishers. THE NO-HUG ZONE WAS BREACHED!
Who am I to turn down a hug at the funeral home? Bear hugs, token hugs, ear-whispering hugs, side hugs, upper-arm-grasping hugs, pat-pat-patting hugs…a plethora of hugs for the unhuggable. They looked like clean people. Nobody in bib overalls with hay sticking out. Nobody who looked like he lived under a bridge and was contemplating setting fire to some paper towels from a trash can on the steps of a neighborhood bar. So I’m pretty sure my infestation of itchy bumps did not come from THE HUGGERS.
The only other alternative is Farmer H. Did he carry in some insectitude from the livestock? Did I catch a dose in the La-Z-Boy? In the marital bed? I don’t know. I am not getting any new itchies. The old ones have virtually disappeared overnight. But I’d really like to know from whence they came. And what they were. Did I have a case of head lice, and now I’m waiting for the next generation to hatch? Fleas? Scabies? Chicken mites?
Whatever it is, I don’t think I am in danger of being hugged soon by anybody who reads this. The No-Hug Zone has been restored.