The term "dirty hippie" gained new meaning for me this weekend when our dreadlocked, festy-junky, raver of a roommate Jen found out a couple of her million bug bites were in fact scabies.
Suz served as translator at the doctor's office and promptly came to tell Laura and I as we were sharing a beer wtih some locals.
"You should live your life alone and sad," said the most insane of the 4 older men before Suz delivered us the news.
Maybe he has a point. Alone and sad, but scabie-free.
Since then we've boiled and washed or bagged and quarentined all of our belongings, covered our beds with a thick plastic and duct tape and fumigated the room.
I lathered, soaked and scrubbed myself only before covering my entire body with a potent cream meant to kill the little buggers (if they were there at all).
So here's to a new sense of appreciation for hygiene. Thank you scabies.
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perma-wanderlusting. we live in a beautiful, crazy world and i want to see and feel and meet and eat and dance through all of it. come join me.
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