I try to keep my skin a barren landscape.  Whenever I go 
to the dermatologist (which is more often than the dentist), 
I can't help but fixate on the poster that shows a cross-
section of human skin, with everything that can go wrong with 
it going wrong at the same time in the same cubic millimeter.  
A blackhead, a scabie's burrow, a shingle, folliculitis, 
streptococcal infection, God-awful things.  It's even worse 
at the vet's, with fleas, ticks, mange, and what-not, so 
Butter only goes when she absolutely has to.

     My boyfriend thinks I'm obsessive, but he doesn't mind 
my cleanliness, or even my refusal to wear make-up.  It used 
to bother him that I would maybe be a little less physical 
with him if he didn't shower soon before.  Things worked out 
when I found that he wouldn't turn down my proposals to bathe 
him myself.

     My only problem with him now, really, is that he loves 
the outdoors.  The thought of all those blood-sucking insects, 
and especially what they do to your skin, is repulsive.  He 
keeps trying to make me go camping with him.  He tells me it'd 
be good for Butter, it'd be good for us to get out for a while.

     Yesterday, we went at it again.  I told him that I could 
NOT go, told him why, and he blew up and said, "Guess What? 
You have mites living on your eyelashes.  Everyone does.  I 
read it somewhere.  At least ticks you can usually pick off.  
You can't do anything with those mites."

     I guess he thought that'd work.  Now I'm here at home, 
pulling out my lashes, and he's alone, too, out in the woods 
somewhere.