I wish I could just flush these tweezers down the toilet

I'm going to be completely honest.

When I woke up this morning, I did not think that by the end of the night I would ask my sister to comb through my hair, piece by piece, with her bare fingers to check for ticks.

I mean, that wasn't even on my radar.

And let's face it, I wake up with some weird ideas sometimes. (Most of these weird ideas are inspired by Katy Perry and her song about fireworks. Because for whatever reason, I wake up with that song in my head every. morning.)

But the point is, even Katy Perry couldn't make me think that by 11:59 p.m. I'd be standing in front of the bathroom mirror cringing everything my sister went in for a closer look.

But I was. Standing in front of the mirror. Praying that my sister would not see anything with eight legs crawling around in my hair follicles.

I hate arachnids.

A lot.

You'll be happy to hear though, that my sister did not find any ticks on my head.

Roxy was not so lucky. And after my sister finished checking me for creepy crawlers, I spent the next 45 minutes trying to dislodge one of the disgusting eight-leggers from Roxy's neck.

(That's where this whole thing started by the way. Cabo had ticks. Roxy interacts with Cabo. I like to let Roxy and Cabo sleep on my bed (because it reminds me of Homeward Bound). Homeward Bound failed to emphasize the realistic possibility of dogs carrying ticks, especially after having spent 2 weeks abandoned in the woods. And because of a groomer that likes to give poodle cuts and the civic irresponsibility of certain movies I watched as a child, suddenly I'm standing in the bathroom wishing that I had followed Brittney Spears example and just shaved the hair off my head.

Just kidding. There has never been a single second of my life that I wished I would have followed Brittney Spears example.

But I think I've made my point. Arachnids + bathrooms = trauma.)

So anyway, after I sat in the hall for an hour trying to kill one tick by pouring a half-empty bottle of Advantix on it, I finally pulled out a pair of tweezers and tickled the tick until it came out.

I couldn't pull it out, because 1) gross. And 2) the internet said it's head could get stuck in my dog's skin, which just didn't sound ideal.

So I just sort of poked at it until eventually it gave up its will to live and fell in my bowl.

It's been a long night. And, frankly, I'm exhausted.

But unfortunately, said trauma has resulted in the most unproductive all-nighter of my life.

I can't go to sleep - because if there are ticks in my hair, I will get them in my sheets, which I just finished washing.

I also cannot pack like I planned to do all night. Because if I touch my clothes, they will probably get tick germs on them. This is a completely rational thought--my belief that the tick germs will spread to my clothes. I know it is rational because I used tweezers AND latex gloves to remove the tick, and it it common knowledge that tick germs can infiltrate latex if said latex is used in conjunction with tweezers that were originally purchased so you could maintain your eyebrows.

Which brings me to my original point.

I wish I could just flush the tweezers down the toilet.

Goodness forbid I should accidentally use the tick-germ tweezers to try to clean up the excess hair upon my brow.

I threw those tweezers in the trash but still....

I would just feel a lot better if they were hidden deep, deep, deep, down in the sewer.