For those who know dive-trawl motel(ing)-Los Angeles, for this side of town (Echo Park), there's scarcely a more dive trawl motel to dump on in to, for a night of seedy scenarios playing out amidst the motel patron's self and periphery. Not that the management is all that bad; (the man at the register is a Chinese man), and, to their credit, I've never caught or seen a bed bug there.
That being said, I caught some sort of sweat or parasitic critter-based rash that's been in development of fighting for it's right to exist, amidst « bird bath » sink showers, liquid ionic mineral supplements, both internally and externally, as well as some Permethrin
cream:
All things considered, I would have ended up a woeful caricature of a young adult motel(ing) demographic. My mental psyche periphery has thankfully been fairly calm seas lately, thanks to my dedication to talking things out, my postings on social media and here, on Blogger, as well as that I'd been dutifully bound to the critter community in the capacity of keeping them fed with some good nibbles - the latest kick for them is Log Cabin Maple Syrup.
After all, I did pick all this stuff up off the ground, outside. It stands to reason that some tick-infested poor soul found themselves stricken with ticks, and simply changed clothes, while dumping the infested clothes in the street.
Getting back to the mental health thing: washing clothes is, after all, a strong front in the face of hospitalization, which, due to coronavirus rules in place still (potentially until May, is probably a nightmare.
It's been a nightmare getting around, some nice my personal tote cart has been taking a beating, logging miles in Santa Monica for the first week of the month; now I'm back in the Civic center and Echo Park, of which I'll have a special photoblog to come.
Check out these cart wheels:
That's right - that's zip ties, aquarium hose, and plastic bag wrap cinching together my tires on my personal tote cart.
My upper body has been burgeoning with endurance lifting-holding strength, for the sake of the fact that I've been tilt-pushing the cart to preserve the wheels' integrity, while I pursue a new cart life, at some point soon.
My laundry is done washing.
That being said, I caught some sort of sweat or parasitic critter-based rash that's been in development of fighting for it's right to exist, amidst « bird bath » sink showers, liquid ionic mineral supplements, both internally and externally, as well as some Permethrin
cream:
All things considered, I would have ended up a woeful caricature of a young adult motel(ing) demographic. My mental psyche periphery has thankfully been fairly calm seas lately, thanks to my dedication to talking things out, my postings on social media and here, on Blogger, as well as that I'd been dutifully bound to the critter community in the capacity of keeping them fed with some good nibbles - the latest kick for them is Log Cabin Maple Syrup.
This is my current outlook - in favor of a more pro-active stance and action against the potential ticks-infestation nibbling on my arms, in intervals.
After all, I did pick all this stuff up off the ground, outside. It stands to reason that some tick-infested poor soul found themselves stricken with ticks, and simply changed clothes, while dumping the infested clothes in the street.
Getting back to the mental health thing: washing clothes is, after all, a strong front in the face of hospitalization, which, due to coronavirus rules in place still (potentially until May, is probably a nightmare.
It's been a nightmare getting around, some nice my personal tote cart has been taking a beating, logging miles in Santa Monica for the first week of the month; now I'm back in the Civic center and Echo Park, of which I'll have a special photoblog to come.
Check out these cart wheels:
That's right - that's zip ties, aquarium hose, and plastic bag wrap cinching together my tires on my personal tote cart.
My upper body has been burgeoning with endurance lifting-holding strength, for the sake of the fact that I've been tilt-pushing the cart to preserve the wheels' integrity, while I pursue a new cart life, at some point soon.
My laundry is done washing.
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