On Tuesday at work, the owner’s brother (John) came to help out. We have a guy on medical leave, so we needed an extra pair of hands. Well, later on that day, John came in carrying a Styrofoam cup with a piece of paper towel over it.
Me: I was sitting behind my desk, curiously looking at him. "What do you have?"
John: "It’s a spider." He moved to my desk, and I wheeled my chair back as far as it could go. "Here. Look at it."
Me: "No. Get it away from me."
John turned and showed Nancy (owner’s wife).
Me: I made a face. "Why do you have a spider in a cup?"
John: "My son needs it for his agronomy class in college. They have to collect all sorts of bugs."
Nancy: "Simon had to do the same thing in junior high for one of his classes."
I could feel the horror on my face. Remember, I live in a small farming community, so I guess this is normal here. I grew up in Arizona and moved to North Dakota six years ago. I never heard of such a thing.
John moved back to my desk with his hand on top of the cup.
Me: I swallowed hard and shook my head. "I don’t want to see it."
John: "Just look at it."
He held the cup in front of my desk, removed his hand along with the paper towel, and slightly tilted the cup so I could see it.
Me: "Omigod. That’s a huge spider. In fact, I killed one just like it in my computer room last week. What kind is it?"
John: "I think it’s a barn spider."
A barn spider?
What the hell was a barn spider doing in my house? Is what I thought.
So John moved across the room as if he were holding a drink in his hand. I was thinking, are you serious? That damn spider could easily crawl out. But John didn’t seem concerned. He was too busy trying to find some alcohol to preserve it. He picked up a Windex bottle. My eyes grew wide and my mouth dropped.
John: "I can spray this on him, right?" He looked at me.
In that moment, a vision popped in my head of him spraying the spider and it scurrying out, landing onto the floor. I knew it would happen. I just knew it would.
Me: "Don’t do it!"
He positioned the bottle like he was going to, and I shook my head. Thankfully, Nancy came to the rescue. She found some alcohol, dipped a q-tip in it, and dropped it in the cup. I could breathe now. But then he didn’t know what to do with it.
Me: "If the spider escapes, I’m outta here."
Again, Nancy saved the day. She told John to grab one of the many empty mixed nuts containers we had, and put it in there. He did and stuck it in the freezer.
Yuck.
I don’t know if John remembered to take it home with him Tuesday night because he won’t be back in to help until tomorrow, and I have no desire to check the freezer.
Nope.
Not me.
It’s Sunday night, 8:28 to be exact and the sun is still shining. I’ve lived here in North Dakota for 6 years now, and I’m still not used to it being light outside when it should be dark. In my book, that’s just so wrong.
Yeah, yeah. I know. Most people love that it doesn’t get dark until like 10:30 at night.
Not me.
I’m the type of person who likes it dark at 6 o’clock and rather be cold than hot. In fact, I really don’t care for summer. Unless, it’s a mild summer. Otherwise, forget it. I don’t like the heat, and I don’t like the bugs.
Last summer was horrible here. I swear, one day we had like a hundred flies in our house and the mosquitos were bad too. Not to mention that stupid, freaky-ass tornado I told you guys about.
I’m not bitching really. I’m just saying.
Anyway, I do have some news regarding my book, but I’m not going to post it until I know it’s all good. So, there will probably be another post before Friday.
Until then, take care and I’ll be back soon. :)
For two days now, our house has been buzzing with nasty flies. It seems like I kill one, and then another one appears. I hate flies. They’re gross, annoying little bastards. I keep trying to figure out where they’re all coming from because it’s not like we stand with the door open. I checked the window screens and there’s no holes in them.
It is a mystery.
I can’t wait until it cools off because not only will the bugs go away, but this hot, muggy weather will too. Last month was absolutely miserable. We’ve lived here in North Dakota for more than 5 years now, and the summers have never been like this. It feels like we’ve been living in a swamp or rain forest all summer. Me no likes.
Last month, for the first time ever, Kevin and I experienced a tornado going through our town. Now every time the weather suddenly gets thick and muggy, we wonder if it’s going to produce another one. Right now, as I’m typing this, the sky is dark, the air is thick and muggy, and it’s thundering and lightening. I love thunderstorms, but with the air like this, it puts me on my guide. I probably shouldn’t be on the computer right now, so I’m going to try and hurry this up.
A few months ago, I was at the computer working on Dark Spirits when my hand drifted to the back of my shoulder. I felt a bump there and took my index finger and thumb and pinched around it. I had to literally peel this bump off me, and when I looked to see what it was, I freaked. It was a bug! I threw it across my desk, and instantly had the heebie-jeebies. I touched the back of my shoulder again and felt a smaller bump on that same spot. Then I thought that I better find that bug I had flung off me, just in case I got sick. So I found it crawling on the side of my computer monitor and picked it up with a piece of toilet paper. I went to the kitchen and tried squishing it with my fingers, but it wouldn’t die, so I took the handle of a knife and wacked it. That did the trick. After that, I squeezed the smaller bump and something white came out of it. I swear it looked like a head with antennas. I then took some alcohol and rubbed it all over the back of my shoulder. By this time my mind was going all Sci-Fi on me:
What if that bug had laid eggs and now I was going to have a nest of them, crawling under my skin?
I kept the white, head-looking thing, and when Kevin came home for lunch, I told him what had happened and showed him my evidence. He told me it was a tick.
BLAH!
I hate ticks.
Oh, and get this. Kevin told me that when we went to bed the previous night, he saw it on the back of my shoulder but thought it was a new mole or something. What? You gotta be kidding me? I can’t believe he didn’t say anything, and I had slept with that damn tick sucking on my blood.
Gross.
I still don’t know how it got there. The only thing I can figure is it latched onto me when I was in our yard. I don’t know, but I don’t like them. I know people who are from here thinks nothing of it. Even the farmers, they pick the ticks off of them like it’s no big deal.
Yesterday I thought I had another tick on me because I saw a round black thing on my shin. So I took some alcohol and picked at it. Thank God. It wasn’t a tick. It was just a scab.
I can’t wait for fall and winter because not only do I love that time of year, but it gets rid of the swamp weather and bugs. . . . Come on fall.
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