I'm itchy.
And I think I know why.
Most people that know me know I'm superstitious and interested in the esoteric. Well, this afternoon I took a spiritual bath. (It sounds fancier than it is; all this spiritual bath really is is me washing down with salt before I take my normal shower, then I put some honey all over myself after the shower. It's basically a shower with salt. And honey.) Mi Señora told me to do this para "alejar envidias y atraer la buena fortuna." So I did it. I do almost everything she tells me to do. Even if it involves me going to the country to look for a crossroads of trains tracks to spit to the West five times. (Don't go do that. I just made that one up) What I mean is that I am a good pupil. I mean, a good patient. Client. Como se diga. And this spiritual bath seemed harmless enough. Until I figured out that honey makes me itch. See, the thing is that I'm not supposed to towel dry; I am to walk around until the honey water dries. And the more it dries, the itchier I get. My cheeks are flushed and hot now and I'm stinging everywhere. The bee's revenge!
Am I having an allergic reaction? I hope this wasn't some genetically altered McHoney I just used that's going to make me get welts or something.
So I type this as I wait for the honey to dry. I'm supposed to be finishing the last draft of "Jarred (A Hoodoo Comedy"), which opens on Halloween with Teatro Luna (my lovely theatre company), but all I can think about is my itchy skin.
Maybe if I run around the apartment to speed the air-drying process, I'll be able to get stared on these rewrites.
Ok, I'm going to go try that.
