I have an announcement to make: I have discovered my superpower. No, it’s not the ability to eat an entire family-size bag of Doritos in one sitting, though I can do that; instead, I’ve discovered that my resistance to poison ivy is so high that I’m functionally immune.
Now, hear me out: this is actually a really useful power to have, even if it is the least sexy one ever. In fact, my origin story isn’t even all that amazing, either, as I’ve just noticed that I’ve never, ever gotten poison ivy, even though I’ve been living in a place that is absolutely lousy with the stuff and I’ve regularly waded into the bushes and underbrush to clear out weeds without suffering any ill effects. I know what you’re thinking – that I’ve probably just gotten lucky – but today I confirmed it.
John and Jenny, our friends and next-door neighbors, asked for some help clearing some weeds yesterday. As we rent the cottage from Jenny’s dad – he owns the house that both John and Jenny live in – we have access to the property and we’ve spent time pitching in to keep it pretty. The problem was that the one spot that needed clearing out – a heathen shrine that they had built last summer in honor of adopting Asatru as their religion – had become overgrown and was absolutely covered in poison ivy.
John is deathly allergic to poison ivy to the point where he’s been hospitalized several times for it, so he couldn’t get in there and clear it out. Everyone else there had no desire to get in there and pull it out either, but I volunteered to give it a try since I already had suspicions that I was pretty resistant, and I’m happy (and relieved) to report that I’m not posting this from a hospital bed.
Now, I have to decide if I’m going to use this superpower for good or evil. I could go around, rescuing homeowners from the perils of poison ivy invading their yards, striking an heroic pose atop an overturned wheelbarrow – or I could instead sneak leaves of poison ivy into the underwear drawers of my enemies, leaving them incapacitated while I make off with their loot and being hunted down by some superhero armed with industrial-strength calamine lotion in a Super Soaker. Whatever shall I do?
Regardless of my decision, I do have one less thing to worry about now: I’ll never have to worry about an illegal alien putting me out of work, since landscapers always need people who are immune to poison ivy. Job security, baby.