Hookas and Underpants

Apparently I'm off to quite a start with my million yesses, because as I wrote that post, this guy was literally feeding off my blood.

Big E came home a short while later to find me sitting in the bathroom in my underwear in a full on panic because in my attempt to extract the little bastard, who was in my right arm, I accidentally crushed him with my clumsy left hand and he was refusing to back out. Thankfully, after a few tries, Big E managed to remove the blood sucking demon.

When I finally calmed down, Big E asked what I would've done if he hadn't come home soon, to which I informed him that I would've driven to the PIC's house in my underwear and asked her to pull the damn thing out.

She has 2 boys under the age of 5 so I figure she's used to people melting down while in their underpants. 

I never realized it would be such a positive thing to have friends with children.

Anyway, despite my utter loathing of anything that extracts my blood,  (Big E and I have mutually agreed that if I ever find a leech on myself I would instantly pass out) I've been doing my best to say yes to some outdoor time. Of course outdoor time near our house isn't often what you'd think it would be.

For instance, my find from last Friday's run,

which I actually thought was part of a bong until one of my clients informed me it was part of a hooka.

Either way, who the hell hikes into a trail carrying something like this? Wouldn't it be easier to carry a joint? 

All of these questions, of course, reinforce why I venture onto the "trails" by my house armed with pepper spray.

Don't judge- when you're busy saying "yes" to everything you can't always be picky.  

Hope you're getting some yesses in too. Even if there's pepper spray involved....or hookas....or underpants.