Insert Bad Joke About Things Bugging Me

While I am glad that warm weather is coming, I was reminded tonight of one of the reasons I hate summer. There was a spider on the wall, and I was forced to dispose of it. If there is anything worse than being alone when confronted with a bug somewhere in the house and having to deal with it myself, it's when the bug is big enough that you feel it pop when you squoosh it with the tissue.

That's nasty, I know. I apologise. But if this blog is about anything, then it's about making you share my pain.

If I could erect some kind of bug-proof barrier around my home, I would be very happy and maybe not even ask for anything again ever. I could even live with the fact that it would keep out ladybugs, which are the one insect I'm always happy to find inside. Finding a ladybug means having an impromptu session on the wonders of nature and then peacefully releasing it outside to do whatever it is that ladybugs do, like flying away home to rescue their children from a burning dwelling, or eating aphids.

But then again, I am a little nutty on the subject of bugs in the house. Not without good reason. I will be the first to admit that my anxiety issues tend to make me a magnet for, well, anxiety about various issues, and the bug thing is one of them. But in this case, I am well and truly justified. When my family first moved to Cole Harbour, our backyard was so full of spiders you could not walk out on the deck. Our first apartment together in Dartmouth had a stone balcony that spiders just loved. They loved it so much that they would even hang out in the door, falling to the floor with a big splat when I would open it. I don't think I ever actually set foot on the balcony. Our first rental house in the Valley had an earwig problem that I don't think I've ever actually gotten over. It's hard to move past finding an earwig crawling up your leg as you're nursing your newborn daughter in the living room at 3 a.m.

Likewise, it's hard to move past finding two gigantic black spiders in my bed one terrible night after we'd moved into the next house in the Valley. Or the fact that ants nested in the front wall. Or the wasps that made a home in the eaves and got into our bedrooms... let's not forget the one in L's crib, which stung me (thankfully, and not her) when I was putting her down for a nap one afternoon. And have I mentioned the silverfish? There were more than normal in that house. Oh, and centipedes too. And millipedes. Welcome to rural Nova Scotia! they seemed to say as they invaded my house in what felt like a neverending swarm of grossness. Mind if we terrify and disgust you on a daily basis until you move somewhere more civilized?

My point is that my paranoia, in this case, is understandable.

So, to sum up: yay summer. Boo bugs. And I cannot elaborate anymore because I am already so itchy I may not sleep for a week.

Un-Good

Now that we have lowered the price of the house to our "OMG SOMEONE JUST BUY IT" price, we are becoming hopeful we might be able to look for a new place here soon. I have been patrolling the real estate sites, looking for something that might be in our price range (almost nothing) and be not just livable but meet our needs too (almost impossible).

I thought I'd found a good one last night - it looked really beautiful on the inside, and was just outside town. Wasn't perfect, but close enough. I emailed the agent this morning asking a few questions and requesting a showing. When L and I were out and about today, I decided to drive by the spot to see the house from the outside. When we got home, I immediately emailed the real estate agent to say "nevermind". It might be a nice house, but when it's across the road from both a swamp and a junkyard, there's no price low enough to make it attractive.

Tonight L goes to Public Health for her booster shots. She has forgotten for the moment, and I'm not going to remind her. We're going to have a very sad and dramatic girl later.

Waaaaaiiiitttt

I spent the entire day waiting, in a waiting room. It was dull, pointless, enraging, boring, pitiful, depressing, worrisome, resentful, and mostly very very very long. That's all I will say about it.

You're welcome.

Conundrum

My clothes are all dirty.

I see no immediate solution to this problem.

Disturbed

Life lies in wait and springs things on you when you least expect it. That's all I can say.

Yesterday J took us out for breakfast, which was a nice treat. We went someplace we'd not been before, and were pleasantly surprised by both the reasonable price and the good food, including homemade strawberry jam. Afterward we went home and I had a shower, then L and I went over to the home to visit our friend. His face lit up when we opened the door, which is wonderful in many ways, not least of which is that it lets me know that he really does enjoy my visits and isn't thinking, "Jesus, here comes this woman again, why won't she leave. me. alone!!"

Afterward, I took L out to Trenton for the Pictou County Kennel Club show. We really enjoyed it. She liked watching the obedience trials, and going around and looking at all the dogs. It was the perfect environment for her to see the dogs, because although she's an animal lover she tends to be a little nervous around dogs. At the show, they were mostly in cages, or in the rings, so she could look at them and admire them without being nervous. The only dogs I have ever seen her really take to are my mother-in-law's dogs, and the greyhounds we saw at a greyhound association thing in the mall. That made up our minds, actually, that when we get a dog it will be a greyhound. She was actually lying down on the floor with the dog, hugging her and petting her. After she met the greyhound, I think she was having a difficult time deciding which she wanted more: one of the dogs, or a kitten. Maybe both.

I have a busy, and unexpected, week coming up. At the end of it we will be going to visit my parents for my father's birthday. He's turning 70, but doesn't want anyone to acknowledge the fact. So I'm blogging about it instead, because that's the kind of shit disturber I am.

Things That Hurt

A quiet day. I went to the nursing home in the morning, partly to help out with their regular Friday church service and mostly to see a man I visit there, who breaks my heart into a billion pieces on a regular basis. He did it again today, by reaching out for a hug when I was leaving. What can I say - people's loneliness gets to me.

But I made him laugh and brought him some cake and gave him several hugs and kisses, so it's all good.

Yep, cake. I was feeling rather blah yesterday afternoon so L and I made a cake. My oven does not like cake as much as I do. It will roast chicken, bake butter tarts, roast vegetables and do pretty much whatever else I request, but it will not bake a cake in the expected time. It usually takes about twice as long. And then it gets dry. But otherwise, it would still be uncooked in the middle. So clearly, my oven hates cake, and it not only wants to not have to bake any cakes, but it wants to make sure that any cake experiences are ruined for everyone else.

My oven is a jerk. Also, it's old, and it sucks electricity like someone or something that really sucks something down. Before we had to move to New Glasgow, I had a brand new ceramic top stove that baked like a dream. But let us not discuss All We Left Behind.

I have the worst case of writer's block I have ever had, by the way. Absolutely no movement whatsoever with the book-in-progress, if I still dare to call it that.

I wonder if a slice of cake would help?

...couldn't hurt.

Random Thoughts

We watched "Lost" last night, and I knew something bad was going to happen to Desmond as soon as the scene with the well began, but unfortunately he couldn't hear me, no matter how much I shouted at the tv. It made me declare myself done with my fence-sitting on the nature of Smokey, but it took only a few minutes for me to reconsider that too. It's just too soon to make a judgement on what's really going on here. All things considered, I'm still leaning towards thinking that Un-Locke is not such a bad dude after all.

That previous paragraph will be interesting to less than half of you.

We looked at a house in our price range last night. It was a shithole.

Why can't drivers in this province complete a turn in less time than it takes for me to recite Kubla Khan? Just make your turn, people. On a protected turn, there's no need to wait until the person in front of you has made their way completely through the intersection. There's no need to make your turn at 10 kph and then hit the brakes halfway through. There's no need to slow to a near-complete stop to turn onto a street and then crawl through the other lane. Also, please learn how four-way stops work. Please.

L seems to be growing up overnight. Suddenly, she doesn't want her goodnight songs as much, and would rather read in bed. Her extra-special bedtime stuffie, Bunny, is still by her pillow but doesn't get cuddled through the night. She's changing her entire bedtime routine, all on her own. And so it begins.

One of the cats threw up on our bed. I don't know which one (though I strongly suspect Cricket), which is just as well. He wouldn't understand why I was giving him the silent treatment.