During the first quarter of 2026, I had to contend with an outbreak of rats in my home resulting from a neighbor’s negligence. During the second quarter, I am having to contend with an outbreak of poison ivy and poison oak resulting from my own negligence. I do not need to see a therapist for these attachment issues, though I am scratching my head about my own stupidity.

Pictured above is what a farmland field looked like in October 2024. Though beautiful to look at, this thicket — about seven feet tall — is filled with poison ivy and poison oak. Six weeks ago, this field was completely mowed. I was thrilled that I could get up close and personal to one of my favorite trees because the field was now passable.

This field may have been passable, but it was not even ground. While taking the above photo, I lost my balance and fell flat on my stomach and face. To my credit, I did not let go of my iPhone which captured my Great Downfall.

The fall was scary, but I managed to get back up and continue my morning trek. However, why did I assume that a mowed field kills poison ivy and poison oak? Why did I assume that urushiol (the oily liquid irritant inside of these plants that is so potent that an amount smaller than a grain of salt can cause a reaction) would not be on my clothes? Or hiking shoes? Or hands? And later, my bed clothes? Why did I assume that the best way to take care of myself after a nasty fall would be to take a warm Epsom Salt bath which is, in fact, the worst thing I could have done.

Needless to say, I made too many rash decisions. Since May 16, I have been greeted every morning by a new patch of rashes on my body — intensely itchy, red and blistering — on both arms, both legs, both hands, my face and yes, my butt. I took this photo yesterday morning:

Because I have very sensitive skin (duh), I have prescription cream as well as a kick-ass Benadryl-like prescription. Who knows what I will wake up to tomorrow morning?

Was my fall worth it? After I picked myself up, I turned around to take in the sunrise. Little wonder I completely forgot about the repercussions of my Great Downfall: