- My yard has been taken over by cicadas. They came up out of the ground (oh yeah they did) and are here every 13 years. There are thousands in the trees all around my house and the constant hum is like a bad sci-fi movie (the males make a noise to attract the females- maybe they could court their stupid cicada hos elsewhere).
Worse yet, I am terrified of them, always have been. If I had a nickel for every time someone told me the last few days that they won't hurt me, I would be sitting on a beach in Hawaii. I might still go since they are staying awhile.
I went out to do some planting yesterday while Mr. Funny mowed and they began dive-bombing me.
I screamed and ran and flapped my arms. They kept flying into me. I shrieked more. I was out in the yard surrounded by trees and looked up to see bajillions of them staring at me while some others fell on me.
My hubby came around to the front yard to see why I was running and shrieking (he heard me over the John Deere) and flapping and by this time, I was sobbing and hysterical. I couldn't breathe and one had fallen down my shirt, another was on my shorts.
He told me to please go inside so the neighbors wouldn't call the police thinking I was being bludgeoned with a claw hammer.
"I can't (sob, snort, sniffle), they will chase me! They are everywhere (gasp for breath), this is like a bad movie, make them stop, poison them, shoot them, spray them with Windex!" (hey, it works on ants)
"I won't let them, I will protect you, I promise (this is why I married him- my insane fears do not faze him at all) they aren't coming around me but you are right, they love you, maybe all the shrieking makes them think you are a female cicada (very funny)
In the house I went. I finally got back to normal breathing and looked out on the back deck. No bugs.
I decided to sit on the deck and read a magazine. I was armed with a fly swatter. I was soaking up the sun and enjoying myself when one landed on my head.
Game over bitches. Back inside I went.
They are here for weeks.
I hate everything.
- My foot is killing me.
I would blame the zig zag running and flapping but it started hurting at Mel's on Saturday and got worse. Yesterday it was terrible by 9 pm.
After some Web MD-ing and Googling, I came to the conclusion that is either plantar fasciitis or a catfish sting.
I wear flat shoes, weigh more than I should, stand for long periods of time and
It felt a bit better earlier today but now it is getting bad again. I think I am going to try the exercises they recommend and get some insoles but maybe I should get this boot.
All the other husbands are gonna be jealous of mine what with the irrational insect fears and sexy night footwear.
- Went to the grocery store last night with big plans of cooking for the kids all week. The big one was gone tonight and the little one and I went to a visitation for one of his friends' mom.
I am going to cook tomorrow for sure.
- I am still purging. The house, that is. The mess is leaving and cleanliness and clutter are kicked to the curb. The boys rooms are neat and the basement is spotless.
All of those statements except for the first one are lies. Nobody in this house throws a thing away. Hoarders.
My closet is lovely though.
- Someone commented that my skin is nice. It is actually not but I wear layers of makeup. I also hang out in the sun, always have. I say I have good genes since my mom looked amazing and wrinkle free til her death. Also, lots of blush. And concealer. But wow, you are sweet for the comment.
|waiting outside my door|
|the shells, so disgusting|