Good--I was nominated for a Coyotl Award for "Jackalope Wives"!
Bad--I woke up with a sort of spotted rash breaking out on my stomach next to a line of semi-recent tick bites. (Very widely spread dots, not tightly clustered, not a bullseye, not (thank god!) bedbug bites.)
We do have Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever in the area, but it doesn't look quite right for that. I feel fine, I don't have any flu-like symptoms. Thing is, there's so damn many tickborne illnesses and half of them don't even have common names, so it's off to the doctor I go so that they can stare at it, take blood, go "Hell if I know," and shoot me full of antibiotics. Rashes next to tick bites are a "Don't mess around."
"Don't get bitten by ticks" is not a viable option where I live if I wish to, y'know, leave the house. Alas. (Ironically, this year has been down a bit--hemorrhagic fever swept the deer population last year and the numbers crashed, so fewer ticks come through. But I'm sure they'll all be back next year.)
No, I am not getting guinea fowl. Yes, I know they eat ticks, but then you have guinea fowl.