Wednesday 8 October 2008

As the granddaughter of an entomologist, I'm ashamed of myself

So, I'd just waved bye-bye to our house guest who has departed after a pleasant three-day stay. I sauntered into the kitchen to fix myself lunch, and while bent over the counter, felt a light brushing at the nape of my neck. Without thinking, I reached back and...yow! My pinkie was really pink! Something had stung me. Well, folks, I totally lost it. In a blind panic, I turned on the tap full blast and started splashing water over my head, too terrified to reach back again with my fingers. I snatched up a tea-towel and frantically batted the back of my head. It then occurred to me that whatever it was...

This?

This??

...may have fallen down the back of my top, so I feverishly undid oh, I dunno, twelve buttons and ripped it off, shaking it vigorously. (Much later, it dawned on me that our kitchen has no curtains.) Clutching my top and the tea-towel to me and using very unscientific language, I barreled upstairs, and leaving a trail of clothes scattered in the hall, immersed myself in a warm shower, having finally summoned the courage to yank out my scrunchy. While shampooing, periodically examining my pink pinkie, I noticed that the water was getting colder and colder. I managed a rinse, and giving my clothes some final cautionary shakes, re-robed and descended the stairs, shivering from shock and cold. I discovered I'd left the kitchen tap on at full blast which explained my very refreshing shower.

Somehow, I think my grandfather (a noted researcher of the tsetse fly, if you must know) would have thought my behaviour extremely silly. I felt even sillier while watching the Rick Mercer Report last night.

If you click on the link this week (October 7th to October 14th), it will take you right to the video in question. Otherwise, the video will be on the list to your right and it's entitled (shudder) "Beard of Bees".

Okay, nobody can accuse me of courage when it comes to bugs. And there's a dead mouse lying by our front path. I'll bet this is going to be a great month for vermin... (And yes, I know house centipedes are great for controlling much nastier household insects. They're still creepy. Leave me alone.)

7 comments:

P said...

Good LORD. I am good with bugs, but get in front of a rat and I'm in trouble.

Persephone said...

I've yet to experience an "inside rat" experience, and paraphrasing Ebenezer Scrooge, that pleasure can be postponed indefinitely as far as I'm concerned. I've seen them outside and have not been that freaked.

Stevyn Colgan said...

So what was it? Was the bug never identified? I think we should be told.

Persephone said...

The Resident Fan Boy discovered a wasp lurking in the fan area above the stove a couple of days ago, so that seems the likely culprit. They get very sluggish and cranky this time of year and we've had a warm September.

Vanessa said...

So it was a wasp?

I'm with P. Faced with a rat and my courage deserts me.

bonnie-ann black said...

gods those million leggety things appear in my bathroom on a regular basis, and i shudder every time, urging the house cat to "kill, kill!" she never does.

i don't know why they creep me out so much -- i've actually had a waterbug trapped in the toe of my pantyhose (after i put my pants on too!) and calmly pulled the panty hose away from my foot and cut it out with a scissor before stomping it to bits.

but those creepy things! yuch... i flush them down the drain with hot water.

blucch!

Persephone said...

You're a braver woman than I, b.a.b. Faced with a water bug in my pantyhose, I'd probably be hanging from the ceiling by my severely embedded nails, kicking my legs and using really, really bad language. House centipedes, like spiders, are supposed to be useful critters. But you're right, they're horrible, and my gut reaction to them was not improved by the night I went to flip a light switch and brushed an exoskeleton with my fingertips...