Lice.

I can't stand the thought of them.  The mere mention that someone infected may possibly have shared the same general space as me sets me into a fit of psychosomatic itching.  It all goes back to the social dynamics of the public education jungle.

I was never a cool kid.  I was, however, not so nerdy that I was a routine target of the cool kids.  On occasion I even transcended my station and got invites to an A-list party or two.  It was safe to say that my social standing was shaky and any negative would be pounced upon by the cool kids, making me a target. 

Enter the public health nurse.  Every once in a while the powers that be would decide that every kid at school X needed to have someone take the chopsticks to them.  If that was your school, that meant that someone would be coming to your classroom to give you a speech and pick at your head.  Up and down the rows, picking at heads.  There I would sit panicked over the possibility, however slight, that they would find something.  There would be no hiding from your peers if the public health nurse found something.  The walk of shame, and worse, the thought of returning to school after a delousing.  Bumped down to the bottom of the food chain, for sure.

So anyway, it seems that the pre-school daughter of The Wife's friend caught a case of lice about a month ago.  None of us were anywhere near her around the time of her infestation.  However, The Wife paid them a visit Monday and we've now learned that the friend has a case.  The Wife and my daughter spent the day with them.  Have they brought home a case of lice?  Time will tell.

Poor Webby came over to visit last night.  Now the two of us are sitting here scratching phantom itches.