another aside

Landon recently discovered that I have this weird, psychosomatic response to things that gross me out. . . they make me itch. I think it's akin to the whole idea of something making your "skin crawl," but if something really grosses me out, it makes me itch, especially on my scalp.
There aren't a lot of things that make me itch all over, but Landon is making the most of talking about the things that do. Like, the ants that colonized the top of our electrical plug, laying eggs and generally overtaking the spot (because it was so nice and warm?). Or the homeless guy with a maggot boot. Or that guy from Indonesia that they call the "Tree Man".

Sometimes, I lay in bed at night grossing out big time over the Tree Man. The smell. The bugs that are probably colonizing all the disgusting folds in his warty skin. Just the general dirtiness of the whole thing. It. Is. So. Disturbing. Yuck.
I'm itching all over just thinking about it right now.
So last night, Landon was trying to creep me out. And I started thinking about the Tree Man. I had to know if he was getting better, so I wouldn't have to lay in bed at night thinking about all those disgusting warts. Turns out, he's getting better, but he'll always have some warts. I found this a little disheartening for a couple of reasons. First, that poor guy has disgusting warts all over his frickin' body. Sure, he can use his hands again, but they don't really look like hands. They probably don't feel like hands either. To him or to other people. Second, I will never be able to just forget about the Tree Man because he'll always have those awful warts.

I know it's probably not very nice of me to be so grossed out by this guy's pitiable condition (it's not like he has the warts because he's gross or something), but I just can't stop itching when ever I think about it. It's like the feeling I get when I'm walking on the sidewalk at night in Hollywood and you just can't help stepping on roaches. Lots of roaches. So. Glad. I. Don't. Live. In. LA. Gross.