My Tale of Woe

By now you all know I don’t like bugs. Can’t stand them. Hate them.  Yes that’s right … I said hate.mask

A few weeks ago some of you laughed/cried/suffered along with me while a cricket tormented me. For over an hour my wonderful husband tried to find the f–n cricket, to no success.

Its sounds kept changing location. We knew it was in the house.

But we couldn’t find it.

Finally after over an hour it stopped. I convinced myself it had left, and went to bed.

But not before D broke our cardinal rule. The rule we agreed to keep to remain happily married.

The rule goes something like this: “If I, D, should happen to find a bug/insect/creepy-crawly when Sara is not around/home/in the same room, I shall never speak of it and never mention it. Sara must never know the bug/insect/creepy-crawly existed.”

So what did he do? He told me that in the past few months he’d had to kill two crickets. IN. MY. HOUSE.

Yea that helped rock me to sleep.

Within the week, D and I came home and I noticed something on the floor. Something black. Something that shouldn’t have been there.

It was a cricket.

D had learned a new technique to get rid of it without killing it (I don’t necessarily advocate for death but rather forced removal). And it worked. Cricket gone. Wonderful.

Fast forward 2-3 weeks. D and I were out of town last night for something related to my work. We got back to town after a 4 hour drive (but for traffic/weather it would have been 2.5 hours) and immediately went to my parent’s house to celebrate my dad’s birthday.

Then, after helping my mom serve/cook/clean up dinner, I stayed around to do some preparation for my sister’s bridal shower this weekend. Finally, after the gifts were wrapped and everything was prepped for my day of cooking tomorrow, I was ready to leave.

Suffice it to say I am exhausted.

So I take my small piece of luggage out of the car and carry it to our front door. D asks me to check the mail. No problem.

I open the box. I take out a lot of mail.

There is still one more piece of mail. Before I can reach in and grab it … I see it.

THERE IS A F*N CRICKET IN MY MAILBOX!!!

Are these things stalking me now???

Fearful that one may also be in the pile of mail in my hand (do they travel with buddies??) I threw the mail down the stairs and screamed.

D went and ushered the cricket out of our mailbox and down the stairs.

Then opened the door for me and went to pick up everything I had dropped.

Suffice it to say, it’s been a stressful day.

And in case you were at all unclear … I HATE CRICKETS!!!!

(and really all bugs … but the teeny tiny ones I can kill myself so they don’t give me heart palpitations the same way as the biggies!)

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