The hubs and I are big fans of the comedian Jim Gaffigan. He came to Cincinnati last weekend and we went to see him. I was laughing so hard, my throat hurt. If you haven't
heard him, you simply must. He is hilarious and his jokes are not
raunchy or dirty. He does one bit about the outdoors and camping. He is
against the whole idea of camping and says that if it is so nice, why
are bugs always trying to get inside? It is funny because it's kind of true.
Now, Troy has helped me realize that I do love to camp and be in the outdoors. I never went camping when I was a kid - (Jim Gaffigan would say that was because my parents loved me.) In fact, my parents were shocked when I told them I liked camping, since I am the girliest girl they have out of us three sisters, but it's true. The trick is to adapt to your surroundings. You have to know that when you wake up in the morning, you will either be scorching hot or freezing cold and there will be at least ten of those tiny bugs flying around the top of your tent who scornfully laughed at the "protection" of your netted windows as they shimmied through the teeny squares. There is a good chance your pillow will be damp and and smell like campfire embers. But you signed up for this. You know what to expect and there are other things about camping that make it great, like s'mores and good conversations with people you care about.
The other nice thing about camping is getting home, to your controlled environment where you can regulate the temperature, go to the bathroom without having to putting on shoes to walk a 1/2 mile to the john, and living in a place free of critters. Or so you think. Last night, you would have thought that coming to our house you were entering one of those creepy-crawly buildings at the zoo that you only go into when you're on a field trip and the kids beg you to go inside.
I was going down to our creepy basement to get a load of laundry out of the dryer when I saw it. At first I thought one of the girls decided to leave a little gift on the basement floor instead of in their litter box, but then I realized that this poop had eyes and then saw that the poop was moving, thus I deduced that it wasn't poop after all. Genius moment. My initial reaction was first relief because then I didn't have to clean up poop, but then I was slightly panicked because now I needed to figure out what to do with this slimy creature who we learned via the internet was a slug. When I realized what it was, I had a minor freakout, which involved me calling Troy and begging him to remove it, but as he was looking for his flip flops, I came to my senses and realized, this slug was more disgusting than dangerous and the little slimeball was quickly scooped up with a piece of cardboard and flung outside. Of course, we were hopeful that our fearless felines would aide us in our slug removal venture, but all Molly did was poke the slug with her nose until he contracted into a chubby ball. After our unwelcome visitor made his necessary departure, I put on my detective hat and found his trail began at the drain in our basement. Eww. We chalked it up to this being an old house (it was built in the 40's) and old plumbing.
Once that excitement was over, we brushed our teeth and got ready for bed. I went upstairs and found Molly crouched down, looking at something on the carpet. When I got a better look, I didn't like what I saw. It had a hard shell plus six legs and was the size of a half dollar. This sum of this equation is never pleasant. Begin emotional meltdown - I mean, are you kidding me right now? I just got rid of slug that was the size of a fruit roll up and now this?! I ran downstairs to get a glass to cover him with. (It was literally the only solution I had at that point.) Then I hollered for Troy for the second time that night. This time, I wasn't going to be able to take care of it myself. Anything with legs that moves quickly gives me the sweats and the goosebumps all at the same time. Once again, Molly was zero help, as she was just pressing her nose to the upside down glass which where the entrapped beetle was scurrying around. My knight in shining armor - or the hubs in a Chicago Bulls warm up tee - trapped the beetle in the glass and flung him outside as well.
As I was laying in bed, I was grateful that we are only renting this house and decided that my desire to live in a "historical home" was stupid. I also had a minor panic attack of what other creature will come crawling into our little cape cod cottage over the next two years. Then I thought back to Jim and his comment about if the outdoors are so great, why to the critters keep trying to get in? I decided to look on the positive side of things. After working all summer on this house, it is finally cute, cozy and (despite the critters mentioned) clean. Who wouldn't want to sneak in and freeload. The snail and the beetle probably saw Molly and Olivia laying around all day doing nothing and figured this was a good set up. So, thank you Snail and Beetle for your complements to my house, alas, you are not invited without adoption papers. Olivia and Molly are the only cottage critters we will be taking in, at least until the next furry animal steals our hearts.
