Bugs in your bedroom... like 9th grade math class, only worse.

by Andrea Mulder-Slater

I am in the middle of doing battle with a flying insect. I don't know what it is, but I'm fairly certain an earwig had sex with a flying ant.

I was just about to crawl into bed when I saw it, sitting nonchalantly on my bedside table - eying my pillow. Normally I would ask Geoff to deal with such things but the poor dear has been burning the candle at both ends with this whole house-building project. At this moment he is fast asleep, clutching a toy dinosaur placed carefully in his grasp by our daughter. Nothing says "Do Not Disturb"  quite like a toy dinosaur in the fist.

So, I took matters into my own hands.

I grabbed a magazine and with it, inadvertently removed one of the creature's legs. I say inadvertently because really, I was trying to murder the thing - not torture it. I have a conscience.

So then it went all vigilante on me and hurled itself into my head. I turned the light on in the hopes that the brightness would attract the beast. It did go straight for the glow... and then disappeared behind the dresser. It's screwing with me. I know it.

I'm now sitting in the basement, at my computer. I needed a breather after what I've been through.

It's a fitting end to a ridiculous day which began far too early for my liking. From sun up to sun down, we (and by we, I mean the girls) were running errands in three different towns, stopping to pee in two of them (and by that, I mean my kid). By mid morning, Jan and I were so desperate for caffeine that when I stumbled into the nearest Tim Hortons, the only word that came out of my mouth was, "Two!" 

The employee behind the counter looked at me strangely. I returned the gesture.


"Um, yes. Coffee," I replied. (Hello?)

"Size, dear?"

"What?" (Huh?)

"What size of coffee do you want?"

Somewhere between 7 and 11am, I had ceased to be cool as I stood in a coffee shop (with a line up behind me, I might add), unable to place an order without prompts from a boy in a hair net.

Which brings me back to the cross-bred bug that is probably licking its wounds in my bed right now. I must face the inevitable. I am being punished for killing a housefly this morning. It's the only thing that makes sense. I woke up, saw it and killed it - no questions asked. From that point on, the day went downhill.

I'm sorry fly. I won't do it again.

There I've atoned. The day can get better now...

Time for an addendum.


Okay - it's nearly two hours later and I have won the battle. I won't go into details. I feel bad, but not as bad as the enemy. I'm in my bed. Earwig-ant is in the toilet. I win.

No, really.

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