I’m allergic to this poison sumac stuff.  Highly.  While Chris can walk around in the woods out back and pick bouquets of poison sumac without issue, I end up with an itchy plague just thinking about it.  Even if I have a full hazmat suit on, I can’t go near the stuff without catching hell.

So I can’t remove it from our yard, but I can’t entirely avoid it because it’s invaded our way-backyard to the point of no return.

I have to approach it with care.

It’s not a huge deal unless I forget it’s there.  When I ignore it or forget about it, I end up covered in the oozing, itchy hives that last for days and cause significant discomfort.  If I go into the woods without thinking ahead, I don’t regret it right away, but a few hours later, I’m riddled with a rash of regret.

… kind of like diabetes.

Which would make my endocrinologist or certified diabetes educator kind of like a landscaper.  They’ve really grown on me, though.  They do so mulch for me, especially when diabetes burnout is in full bloom.  I really dig them.