Lice
Little One has got Pediculus humanus capitis, or head lice. Yet again! Wifey says she’s got them too. Little One is now a specialist. It is about her tenth time in the last four or five years. My head itched as well but I think it was only a show of solidarity.
Until January this year, Little One regularly sheared my hair with a clipping machine. She charged me 5 euros a shot. Extortion I know, but to encourage her entrepreneurial spirit I coughed up. At the start of the year she upped the rate to 10 euros and since then I haven’t used Little One’s coiffeur services.
While I seem to be immune to lice, Wifey is at the end of her tether. We have tried all the available treatments at the chemist's, in addition to vinegar, alcohol and several "old spouses' " methods.
Last night Little One went to bed with a silicon swimming cap on her head, after her bonce had been doused liberally with 96º alcohol. The swimming cap (Wifey’s idea) supposedly creates an anaerobic environment in which the lice cannot breathe. They thus die by suffocation. I am very sceptical. However, I had no better suggestion and withheld my usual pedantry. ("The better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life"). My mouth remained fastened by a device of two flexible strips with interlocking projections closed or opened by pulling a slide.
"Time for bed Little One! Don’t forget to put your swimming cap on!"
Of course head lice are nothing compared to some of the 3000 known species of wingless parasitic insects, most of which infested me at some time when I was in Sudan.
"Oh, don’t start you boring old codger!"
"OK, OK. Enough said" (though Pediculus humanus humanus can be a stickler when it gets between your shoulder blades. What on earth could God have been playing at when she came up with that one?)
Little One has got Pediculus humanus capitis, or head lice. Yet again! Wifey says she’s got them too. Little One is now a specialist. It is about her tenth time in the last four or five years. My head itched as well but I think it was only a show of solidarity.
Until January this year, Little One regularly sheared my hair with a clipping machine. She charged me 5 euros a shot. Extortion I know, but to encourage her entrepreneurial spirit I coughed up. At the start of the year she upped the rate to 10 euros and since then I haven’t used Little One’s coiffeur services.
While I seem to be immune to lice, Wifey is at the end of her tether. We have tried all the available treatments at the chemist's, in addition to vinegar, alcohol and several "old spouses' " methods.
Last night Little One went to bed with a silicon swimming cap on her head, after her bonce had been doused liberally with 96º alcohol. The swimming cap (Wifey’s idea) supposedly creates an anaerobic environment in which the lice cannot breathe. They thus die by suffocation. I am very sceptical. However, I had no better suggestion and withheld my usual pedantry. ("The better part of valour is discretion; in the which better part I have saved my life"). My mouth remained fastened by a device of two flexible strips with interlocking projections closed or opened by pulling a slide.
"Time for bed Little One! Don’t forget to put your swimming cap on!"
Of course head lice are nothing compared to some of the 3000 known species of wingless parasitic insects, most of which infested me at some time when I was in Sudan.
"Oh, don’t start you boring old codger!"
"OK, OK. Enough said" (though Pediculus humanus humanus can be a stickler when it gets between your shoulder blades. What on earth could God have been playing at when she came up with that one?)
posted by Bob at 11:46 am
2 Comments:
Why did I find myself scratching my head after reading this?
Empathy perhaps. Empathy is a great characteristic but can lead to unnecessary head-scratching when the conversation turns to headlice. Good job I didn't mention piles.
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