The art of going bugshit crazy

I have a new-found nemesis. Rather, lots of nemesises. Is that a word? Nemesises? Never mind, you know what I mean. What I would love to do, is kill off the entire insect population in this house. Just in our home, mind you. I fully understand the concept of an ecosystem and that if a butterfly farts in my garden, there will be a tsunami in China, or however that saying goes.

I think that snuffing out so many littles lives is justified in the face of what might happen if I don't; yours truly having a psychotic melt-down and doing something potentially dangerous. Like running naked down the street while screaming "they're crawling all over me!"

The flies are by far the most crazy-making. You have the big, fat ones. They're kinda swarthy, with bristles. If they were people, they would be the kind with shoulders and backs so hairy, they could compete with your dog when it comes to shedding on the furniture. They would proudly show off said body hair by wearing washed-out tank tops. They would also sweat a lot. These kinds of flies are loud. Like tiny chainsaws with wings. They're impossible to kill, because they never bloody land. In stead, they constantly fly around and around at ridiculous speeds, making as much noise as they can. You sort of have to give them a good knock while they're in the air and kill them while they're still dazed from the blow. Then you have the smaller ones. These aren't very loud, but ours like to travel in two's or three's and they keep trying to crawl into your coffee mug. The little bastards always know when you have your fly swatter ready, at which point they will vanish without a trace, until you've put it down.

Pooch thinks flies are terrific fun, though. To her, they're basically special toys that were invented so that she can bounce around like a maniac, trying to catch them. Although she's far more likely to injure herself or knock over furniture.

Tonight we tried to save our sanity by using bugspray. Mister walked around from room to room with a huuuge (seriously pink) can of spray. There's something very odd about a hot pink surface with insects painted all over it. Pooch followed him. She' easily entertained.

I was in the dining room when I heard him shout: "Godammit, dog! Stop trying to eat the bugs that I've just sprayed!"

Not the smartest tool in the shed, her.

A lovely day for the wiggling of the toes

I’m starting to get that vacation-feeling deep inside my tummy, right underneath the ice cream, watermelons and fizzy drinks. In a couple of days it’ll probably have spread to my brain, from which it will have to be surgically removed once classes start up again, like some malignant tumour.

I’m going to grad school in the fall, you see. To Hellhole U, to be specific. The thing is that I didn’t really want to go there. I wanted to move back to the city, to where you can have food brought to you and where there is a big enough population to form a good-sized cult. But the universe had different ideas. It always does. First, I started thinking about all the stuff I’d have to haul halfway across the country, which put me off a little bit. This goes back to the lazy-thing I’ve mentioned earlier. I’m lazy. I’m also lethargic, sluggish and slothful, and I don’t like moving furniture over large distances.

Then I received my letter from Hellhole U, offering me a spot which I would have to accept by the 16th. Which is two whole days before the other schools I’ve applied to send out their letters. The thing is that I’m a sissy. The universe knows this, and tends to use it against me. The universe is very well aware that if I were to turn down Hellhole U, then not get accepted anywhere else, and have to postpone my masters for another year, I’d be forced to have a mental meltdown. I’ve seen meltdowns on movies and have always thought that they look like a lot of work. Which brings us back to me being lazy. I mentioned that, yes? So I’m going to Hellhole U.

But until then, I’m sitting outside in my garden chair with my laptop, wiggling my little toes in the air. I left the TV on inside and the sound is a bit annoying, but I’m too lazy to get off my ass to turn it off.

Some guy sounds waaay too happy as he says: “Before, we had to go to the doctor in order to remove my warts. Now we can do it at home with just one treatment.”

Idjit.