All About Us: A Dracut Weblog

Sometimes we're better off not knowing ---


Take hot dogs for example. Or frankfurters, not sure what the diff is anyway, but here's the point. We've all head the murmurings, urban myths if you will, that hot dogs are filled with rats toenails or puppydog tails, or other icky things. (Never sugar and spice and everything nice). But unless we're very squeamish, we keep eating our dogs with relish, no pun intended. Unless we get violently ill or turn colors, we keep buying our BallParks, Nathan's, Pearls, or Kayems, and cooking 'em up. Yum! Don't Ask - Don't Tell.

Now, consider the VERY BIG number of bugs that live in our yards, houses and, well -- face it -- our innards, and for the most part, we co-exist in blissful ignorance (or denial). Lately though, I have been dealing with spiders, especially with the rennovations in our basement.

We vacuumed up as many as we could, and used a *bomb* for the rest. All good. Then the workers did their magic. New laundry closet, game area, entertainment area, and still some decent storage space. Just as good as Ty Pennington, but with less hair product.

Anyway, in the last month or so, we've noticed a few more spiders setting up shop in our new rooms. This weekend, we've been trying to organize all of our stuff, the stuff that's been in storage for a couple months, to fit it into the new areas. Today, as I'm vacuuming up more spiders, I'm feeling rather brave, patting myself on the back for not freaking out that I could even have a spider in my hair, and just as long as it left within a reasonable amount of time, I could care less. Of course, that amount of time could really not exceed, like two or three seconds. (Not that brave) Anyway, with all the back patting, it took me a minute or two longer to register that something wispy and alien was on my person. But when I did feel it, I ran upstairs, stripping off my shirt as I went, yelling for my husband to check me for bugs. Nothing. I beg him to brush me off anyway, and finally I was satisfied and got dressed and returned to my chore.

I still looked out for the critters but tried to resume the brave act again. Worked ok until I accidentally knocked over a fluorescent light tube and when it popped, I freaked! Now I'm on a self-imposed *break* from work, but here's the weird thing. My writing work area has just become invaded with yellow jackets. We're not sure how they got in, perhaps through the AC? It looks like the cold is killing them though, but there are still a good dozen hearty souls left to organize fly-bys around me as I type. Crazy.

For another insight into the whole bug thing, check out what a blogging associate writes. You'll be glad you did.