Okay, so if you scroll down an entry or two, you'll see my smug account of Joel getting a bug bite on the bottom of his foot. Har har har, I am so witty and full of it, all, "bugs don't bother *me* at all, la la la." And can you guess what was keeping me awake at 4:30 this morning? Yup. A bug bite. On the bottom of my foot. It was very, very itchy. With itchiness, in case you weren't sure.
I stumbled around, flinging open the medicine cabinet and rooting around looking for the AfterBite stick, without success. I found Calamine lotion, but it was all runny and decidedly ineffective. I tried spraying it with manicurist's finishing spray, which was so deliciously cold on my itchy, itchy foot, but that relief ended about five seconds after I stopped spraying it.
Finally, Joel told me to just dump rubbing alcohol on it. After I hopped back to bed reeking of nail salon and summer camp infirmary, he- who had to get up in teach in about 90 minutes- declared it "No More Talking time."
Oh, Karma. I deserved your itchy comeuppance.