The other day, I was having a typical conversation with my son:
"Mom, maybe Pluto can't talk?"
"Mom, maybe Pluto can't talk?"
Me: "Yeah, maybe he's just a 'regular dog.'"
Jack (suddenly offended): "He's NOT, Poo head!"
Honestly--I just read today that Lady Gaga is not ready to have children at this point in her life because she finds babies "terrifying." I'm paraphrasing here, but she also said that basically children kind of curb a woman's creativity. Gee, do ya THINK? Okay, that's probably going to earn a back-lash of "but children are wonderful, and how could you even think such a thing, and she's wrong, and waa waa waa, I protest too much!" I'm not going to say anything more, but if my burnout could be measured somehow...well, I'd better get off this topic.
Anyhow, it is Wednesday, and several of you lovely people have been asking me what the hell the outcome of BUG KILL TUESDAY was. Well people, the Bug Man came yesterday, and apparently piped poison around the homestead here. Now, when I call him "Bug Man," I do not do so with any condescension--no, no, for I admire someone in his vocation so much, that perhaps I should frame a picture of him and put it prominently on a wall in my home. He told us a few days ago: "after I've sprayed, will you still see ants? ABSOLUTELY. But, if you see ants after 10 days--YOU CALL ME." Can do, my friend. As I look down at the floor here next to me, I see 1 teeny-weeny ant, but that's an improvement from being able to look down and see at least 10.
Now, as for the disgusting, nauseating, loathsome flying ants--I haven't had the courage to remove the makeshift barricade from my bedroom floor; you know, the plastic bag weighted down with several books? Maybe I'll have the courage to do so tonight. And yet, I doubt it. So, no bugs people, but then, I hadn't seen too many since I went on a total cinnamon dumping rampage around the house. The Bug Man scoffed at my cinnamon, but he wasn't here when I saw at least six ants look at the spicy wall I'd built around my boxes of cereal, try to climb it and then back the hell out of there. So, take that.
Speaking of bugs, last night I was enjoying the setting sun on my front porch. There was a lovely breeze, and I was enjoying a lite beer. Then, the sun sank just a little further, and those idiotic harbingers of summer came out to bump into bushes and things--JUNE BUGS. I hate those things. Big surprise. No, seriously, I HATE those things. They're so erratic and relentless, and they're bigger and weightier than a fly, and therefore intolerable. Plus, one time as a kid, my family and I were crossing an open field at dusk, and one of the monsters lobbed over, landed on and clung to my lip.
So, I was watching them winging around and remarked to my husband about how much I hate them, and how pointless they are, because it appears their whole raison d'etre is simply existing. They come out and spaz around trees and upright objects for a few nights in summer, mate, die, then come out again next year. I was all smug; "yeah, they have no purpose other than to exist and further their species." Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk. And then I stopped and stared for a moment, and wondered if we as humans were really any different. What is our purpose? Yeah, we invent purposes for ourselves to pass the time, and we're driven to further our own species...hm, better stop thinking about it. It hurts my brain. It also hurts my supposed sense of awesomeness. Ha ha, I kid.
June bugs. Shudder.
So, about an hour and a half before dinner, my tiny monsters raced outside to play with the neighbour girls. Approximately five minutes later, Ella was screaming at a pitch that would probably break glass. And whattaya know--she had stepped on a bee. So, even though I felt a ton of empathy for her, and felt extremely sorry for her to boot, I am essentially a typically crusty mom, so I am always compelled to say things like; "well, now you see why I tell you to wear your shoes when you go outside," and then I like to go for a little overkill by saying; "so, you children will wear your shoes now when you go outside, won't you."
How did I turn into this? I think I used to hate those kinds of admonishments. However, it occurred to me again recently, as it also did some time ago, that I have essentially lost all sense of being a kid. That means I'm at times humourless, crusty (as mentioned), and probably almost completely devoid of all that magical kid-ness.
Well, this is getting a bit rambling. It's Wednesday and all I wanted today was a nap. At any rate, it's time to wash the dishes.
image references: Bugs ~ http://www.snowflake-designs.com
Dead June Bug ~ http://www.tonycolter.com/photos/potd/potd-20030604.jpg