I have a thing about bugs. You know this by now.
What you may not know is that we have a little flying beetle problem in our kitchen (they’re not cockroaches, they’re actual flying beetles, which is even harder for me to deal with because at least I know that cockroaches do not want to eat me).
Once or twice a month, one of them wriggles its way into our apartment from the tree outside our window, and then slams itself repeatedly into our ceiling light amid a cacophony of screams from yours truly. I have mentioned these Harbingers Of The Apocalypse to our exterminator – gently and calmly, as I’m sure you can imagine – and his advice? To capture one and “hold onto it” until the next time he swings by. Which would mean either keeping one as a pet, or allowing devil-feet to touch my Tupperware.
So earlier this afternoon I was sitting happily at my computer, clicking away, when I started seeing dark spots in front of my right eye (the unfortunate victim of last month’s corneal abrasion). I started to panic a little, thinking that I was having a relapse of some sort, but then realized that maybe my glasses were just dirty and I was being a loon. I took them off to clean them…and there was one of my unwelcome roommates, sitting ON THE INSIDE OF MY FREAKING LENS.
It was so beyond something that I could wrap my mind around – it was ON THE INSIDE OF MY FREAKING LENS (that would be CENTIMETERS FROM MY FREAKING EYEBALL) – that all I could do was handle it like a totally grown-up, sane person: I shooed it off of my glasses and onto the floor, and then calmly slew the beast with one of Kendrick’s Gamestop magazines.
I know, that’s what most people would do. But when it comes to multi-legged creatures I am not most people, so for me this was nothing short of a miracle.