The past couple of months I have mostly been making fun of other people, so I guess I ought to poke fun at myself a bit.
In Sunday's post, (or was it Monday's, or Saturday's? I forget. Who cares?) I talked about ideas city people have when they come to the country. Heh. I forgot to throw in my personal example.
I came here with the fond idea of having a compost pile. You know, all the kitchen waste rotted down into good compost for the garden. Hmmmm...that didn't even last one night. Remember the wildlife I mentioned before? Yeah, well it didn't take long for them to all show up en masse; 'coons, 'possums and skunks, oh, my! Not to mention stray cats and what all else. Since I don't want to hassle with getting a compost bin, I just make sure I toss my kitchen scraps a long way from the house now and let 'em duke it out to get it.
Now, I should have added yesterday's event to yesterday's post, but I ran out of time. Here goes...
Generally I am not squeamish about bugs. I can handle them, pretty much, as long as I know that they are relatively harmless. But these babies...they just creep me out:
Walking sticks. According to Wikipedia there are some 3,000 species of them, and they make good pets. PETS? Urgh!
I don't know why they creep me out, but they do, however harmless they might be. (So do those nasty granddaddy longlegs, but that's for a different post. Maybe I just don't like long-legged critters) Anyway. Yesterday I was doing some busy-work outside, while Ellen watched Dora the Explorer-which keeps her out of my way when I am going in and out of the house.
I come back inside and am in the kitchen when I see something moving out of the corner of my eye. It's something on my shoulder.
GAAAAAHHHH, it's a walking stick going across my back!!!!!
EEEWWWW! EEEEEWWWWW!! EEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!
I reach over and try to flick it off. But these hideous critters have 6 long legs, on looooog bodies. Trying to flick one off is a joke, especially when you can barely reach it. As soon as one set of feet are detached, they just put them back down while you are trying to flick off the other set.
Far be it from me to actually TOUCH the THING with my fingers and pluck it off.
So, after a bit of a dance around the kitchen, accompanied by a bit of squawking, I peel off my shirt and pray no one comes to the door or the front window. Ha Ha Ha!
Then I get the broom and dustpan and get it out of the house.
There, now you can laugh at me!