I came in from mowing (90 minutes, 653 calories burned) (Really?! That seems like an awful lot), and stripped down to get in the shower. There was a spot of grass on my upper thigh; I went to brush it away...and it crawled closer to my girl bits.
"Holy crap, I think there's a tick on me!" I yelled to Jimi, who was in the next room, dressing to take over/finish up the mowing. He came in and closely examined the squirming spec I was trying to squish between my fingers.
"Yep. That's a tick."
"It was headed for my no-no place!" I was leaning over as far as I could, desperately trying to see into my vag to make sure there weren't any ticks in there. I stood up and looked my beloved straight in the eye, "Is there a polite way to say 'Baby, will you check my butt crack for ticks?'"
He smiled at me sweetly, "Take a shower first."