I went to a new beach the other day, and there was a whiteboard by the entrance that told you all about tide and temperature and undertows and killer creatures. It also alerted you to the presence of possible sea pests, and the lunatic lifeguard scrawl on the whiteboard informed me that today I had to watch out for SEA LICE. This was like a nightmare come to life for me, because it combined two of my worst animal fears: sharkiness and lousiness. I visualized the sea louse as resembling a tiny hammerhead, only instead of eyes on either side of its face it had potent suckers for drinking my blood. I swam anyway, because I am intrepid, but as soon as I got home I looked up SEA LICE, and discovered that they are in fact pervy jellyfish larvae that want to attack under your swimsuit. Wikipedia intensified the horror: "It is best to remove clothing before rinsing in cold water or drying off. Inactivated larvae may react to fresh water or lack of water, thus activating." That night I went to put my chapstick on before bed, forgetting that it was in the pocket of my swim shorts while I swam, and then when I felt the residual ocean wetness had a sickened moment of imagining miniscule baby jellyfish activating all over my lips. And who is to say that they did not?
Drawings are coming soon, my pets. I am embroiled in a bonkers poetic triptych at the moment, which takes up all of my time. There are some nasty metaphorical priests in it, which will give you something to look forward to at the moment of unveiling.