Scratch-Proof?

            I planned ahead.  After the nightly coconut oil slather, I found a pair of long-sleeve, long pants summer pajamas, turned them inside out, and put them on.  You see, seams irritate my now-sensitive skin; however, perhaps the sleeves and long pants would deter scratching the same.  I had thought of wearing gloves to bed as well, but I didn’t want to get too hot and start sweating.  Heat and sweat set off terrible itching; cold and ice packs soothe my skin.  With the central air vent above my head and the ceiling fan above my feet, I was ready for a good night’s sleep.

            And I had one, with a single waking episode to test me.  I did not pass the test.  As usual, I woke up scratching.  “Oh,” I thought to myself, “I’m not supposed to scratch.”  As my fingernails slowed their frantic pace, I told myself that this was a different kind of scratching that was allowed—and kept scratching.  Eventually, I fell back asleep.

            In the morning, I remembered the episode and had to laugh at how easily I deceive myself, even when half-asleep.  I do not know what my sleepy brain meant by acceptable scratching, just that the thought allowed me to continue what I was not supposed to do.  I think there is probably some sort of profound truth concerning self-deception, but I’ll leave that for you to figure out as I scratch my head, wondering what it might be.