Life occasionally gives me affirmations that I have never been and never will be a normal person. Either that, or I’m so hyper-normal that sitcoms draw from my rants to make shows that everyone can relate to.
I don’t lead a boring life… and sometimes I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
Yesterday was a big high school alternative reunion for all us kids that didn’t fall into the “my senior year is the best senior year ever” category and it was going to be kids and all at a park in the sunshine. We were also supposed to help my Grandma move into her new place and my sister move into G’ma’s old place. (Musical houses.)
My body heard “sunshine” and decided to shit itself and quiver in fear.
About a week ago I got a bug bite on my hand. No. Big. Deal.
Saturday, the bite suddenly turned into a giant water balloon and burst into a fountain of blood and white blood cells. All this happened in an HOUR. It was a normal little semi-itchy bug bite at noon and at 1 it was a giant blister of pain. Thank you, Lupus, for over-reacting yet again. After the detonation of my tiny hand sore, I ended up with a dime size patch of skin that sloughed off in a manner that would make a zombie barf.
(I have a few other bites on my legs that are now getting the side-eye in case they think the action on my hand was a totally awesome display. Giant pussy sores on my thighs? Sexy! At the first sign of an itch, I’ll be at my doctor’s office asking for steroids. Let the Lupus know I kick back!)
Still, Saturday night I went to bed thinking I’d have Sunday to meet old friends and help out family.
Then the C words started.
I was laying in the bed watching TV and trying to kick the last of a migraine before starting the day. The TV show (Castle) went from one episode to the next and in between I heard the sound of running water.
From the direction of the hackerspace. Thank God the main computer is on a shelf instead of on the floor!
Spooks, my lovely feline bastard, was squatting and pissing IN BETWEEN the dog beds. Not on. No, we could not just put a dog bed in the wash. He infiltrated two dog beds, the body pillow I use to keep the dogs from under the bed, the carpet, and the carpet padding.
Instant exile. Migraine Mommy goes to put down towels and put the dog beds in the wash. Then she saw them.
Hundreds of them, alive and dead. Migraine Mommy screams, shits herself, and falls dead on the floor but decides a floor with centipedes is a TERRIBLE place to die and gets back up again.
Otherwise known as the fabric that will never harbor another bacteria or insect in the next 100 years. The only other way I could have cleaned it was with a flamethrower and I considered it. It’s hard to rent one on a Sunday, though, and Shaun didn’t want to visit IKEA for replacement furniture.
And yes, I do itch everywhere and I’m on Benadryl. Bug poisons and I don’t get along very well.
It’s not a C word, but I did promise my husband that if he did not cut and poison the yard in the next hour I was going to start killing people – namely, him. It’s not his fault but he is my knight in shining armor sent to save me from hundred legged creatures.
Thank you God for the healing powers of Concerta! Two thirds of the Children were sane during this entire session of the Crazy. They did things like play and read books while the grown ups freaked the fuck out.
Everything inside the area contaminated was tossed into the bathtub for a scalding anti-yuck session. Including me and Shaun.
Yup. All of them.
Every single fucking plan died with those centipedes.
The day also included a lot of crying, a metric ton of cussing, and hours of listening to the whine of the vacuum.
I guess the mystery bite on my hand was put there by a centipede which does not help the Crazy AT ALL. I just keep telling myself that hospitals and hotels would be much less sanitary than my current sleeping platform, so I can’t go certifiable.
If another bite goes geyser on me, that determination may change.