Sweet mother of Stan Lee, make it stop!

I did something stupid. It was so dumb it was stoopid.

We had one nice day here on Ferenginar recently. It was warm and balmy and I hustled the brood outside for some play time, even plopping the Incredible Bulk down amongst the outside toys so he could watch and get some fresh air.

So what did Blue do you ask? Well, you see, I love to work in my yard. I haven't worked in my yard in months. So I let my gaze wander and it lit upon the ivy that almost covers the ancient oak in the back yard.

Ahah! A project!

So I grabbed my clippers and went to work. Clip, clip, tug, gather, drag, drag. HmmHmmmmHm. How pleasant! What a beautiful day!

Here's the stoopid part:

I knew the poison oak was there.

I carefully inspected the ivy and decided that the poison oak must be dead in winter. What would a few snips hurt? I even washed carefully afterward.

So ... is it possible to die from itching?

'Cause I now am COVERED with red, blistery, weeping rash from my fingertips to my armpits on both arms. I haven't slept appreciably in 3 nights. I have to wear long sleeves to the post box because I look like I have the freakin' Bubonic Plague! And my left arm, which is much worse, is swollen up like a sausage and painful.

And the itching ... the itching.

Oh, and so far I have, while here at the computer, dipped my applicator q-tip twice in my Diet Coke and picked up the calamine lotion once ... but I didn't drink it.