So, last night on the phone my best friend Jildo pointed out that my blog has gotten quite "knitterly" lately. No good freak-outs, no rants, nothing but yarn and knitting stories. So very sad.
I was thinking on that and you know, life just is too happy lately. I'm quite boring now. I walk my children to school in the morning while drinking my first diet coke of the day *aaaaaahhhhhh*, work a bit, do some household chores, exercise, take a knitting break, work more, then walk back up to school and bring the kids home again. I've turned into quite the June Cleaver (minus the vacuuming in heels & pearls). My children even took flowers grown by ME to their teachers on the first day. sickening, isn't it?
Last night I took an evening bike ride to the library and picked out some new books on Maui and on knitting and was meandering on home down the long hill, enjoying life and thinking, what could I possibly blog about.....when it hit me. No, not an idea hit me, no, that wasn't it. IT hit me.
OK, so not this actual bug, no, he did not survive for a picture. I admit I stole this image of a KS cidada this morning off the internet.
Picture it if you will....riding along, swooshing down a long hill on a sidewalk in the dusky evening. Cicada's making their "wwhhhheeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEeeeeee" and the breeze feels so nice against my face. I've got a backpack loaded with books, a BIG new bicycle I'm riding on that I have to be VERY careful as I stop or I fall over (I'm so not graceful it's pathetic) and this THING hits me in the chest between my shoulder and my neck. I curse, swerve, and try to knock the thing off me since it's decided it wants to STAY and not just hit and run like the average bug attacking a cyclist. Instead of brushing the monster (which is about 2 inches long plus wings) OFF my shirt, I brush it INTO MY TANK TOP. At this moment, I flip the bike over and roll and this thing is doing its screamm eeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEEeeee and I'm doing my scream "OH MOTHERFUXXER HOLY SHXT...." (use your imagination, I think I even created a few new words in there. I wasn't wearing a normal shirt that you could just pull out or up and get the bug out, nope. I was wearing a nice little tank top with the shelf bra. This worked to HOLD the bugger IN my chest WITH me. I finally succeeded in getting the bug out, my shirt back on (I practically ripped the entire thing off me in the process.) and my backpack retrieved (somehow was flung into the middle of the street and almost got run over), and then I just laid there on the sidewalk trying to catch my breath while shaking off those BIG heebie jeebies, the ones that make you look like you're having convulsions.
This poor woman was walking her little yip-yip dog across the street. The dog was growling at me and she was looking at me like I was a raving psycho, not sure if she should come and help me out or not. I waved and said "it's ok, it was just a bug." She looked at me like I was some freak on a big city street who just peed on myself and was fighting imaginary creatures. Crazy people kind of stick out here in good ol' Overland Park, KS.
WHYYYYYYY do these creatures find ME? What did I do to offend the great bug goddess? Ok, so I've squished a few spiders in my day. I did let that one damn spider that Jeff named Gus live (even though I swear it must have been Guselda since now I've squashed at least 5 in the house that bear a strange resemblence to the original critter.)
More knitting content later. I pulled out the jaywalker sock #1 and started the slip stitches on the heel while working in bed last night.
Damn, I've still got the chills just thinking of that bug last night. I took the LONGEST hot shower I've ever had in my life last night. I can't believe I didn't get hurt on the bike flip. I landed on the grass and don't think I even touched the ground, I was jumping around like a freak trying to get rid of that damn bug.
I didn't share this adventure with Jeff because just the other day he saw me squash a spider and told me that bugs and spiders don't bother him because he is kind to them. He either lets them live in the house wherever they want (not anymore) or gently scoops them up and drops them outside. He said for every bug I squish, another is going to come and make my life hell. It's gonna be a long long life of bugs I'm afraid. Bug kharma. cripes almighty.
ICK. See, now you won't mind my boring knitting content any more, will ya?
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