Two months from today I will reach the age which matches the (last two digits of) the year in which I was born. This advancement towards the grave is not nearly as depressing as it was before I read this:

… rising levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere…may cause poison ivy to grow at almost twice its current pace in the next 50 years, says a report published today in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

This ain’t a hypothetical “gee, what-if” science geeky thing either. They did an actual experiment, although the story here does not go into detail as to how they upped the CO2 in this particular patch of woods. But to continue….

The study found that poison ivy grew about 149 percent faster in an environment with a higher concentration of carbon dioxide. At the same time, urushiol — the chemical in poison ivy that causes rashes and sometimes more serious symptoms — was found to be about 153 percent more concentrated per leaf.

Just shoot me now.

I was never very sensitive to poison ivy as a kid, until one day I decided to take a shortcut through the woods of Kickapoo State Park while fishing. Apparently I waded, nay indeed nearly swam, through a solid mass of the crap, all the while pushing the silly little vines—to which I paid no particular attention because “I don’t get poison ivy”— with ungloved hands which I then used to wipe sweat from face, neck, etc.

Spent much of the rest of the summer impersonating a recently peeled tomato, and learning the limitations of available topical treatments for itching, oozing sores. Now all I need to do is look at the stuff and I start to break out.

I could have gone all day without reading this story, but having done so I feel obliged to inflict it on you as well. No need to thank me, and have a nice day!