Nit-Picker

Ever think where this expression comes from, to be nit-picky?

Picking out the nits of the lice from hair is so tedious and overwhelmingly scrutinizing, that only the most demanding person would refer to themselves as nit-picky.

Between 11 p.m. and midnight last night my sister Martha talked me back from the edge, so to speak. It was like a cross-Atlantic phone version of that song "Jumper" by Third Eye Blind. Crisis after medical crisis, in person or over the phone, she continues to save my hide decade after decade. Listens, sympathizes and then says 'ok, here's what you should do'. As a school nurse, the woman has SEEN IT ALL and knows more information, physiology and reproduction habits about lice than I even thought existed. I accept now that there is no easy solution, no magic potion. Pull them out, one by one, and keep doing it, day after day, until you get them all. Pray to God the rest of us don't get them. Martha also told me many horror stories of lice from her days at the hospital and at the school, so I'm taking comfort today by images of what is NOT my case.

Really, this is not a big deal. My daughter is in perfect health and this is not an illness nor anything serious. It is just a parasite.

Lucky me Thomas is going away for a hockey tournament from Friday until Sunday. Have I mentioned I don't have a dryer. Sigh. [Or am I just being nit-picky?]