Something really great happened. Great = Gross. I poo'd. And when I whipped around to look, there was something glorious to behold. Two drinking-straw, in size, 1/4 of an inch in length THINGS were hanging out. OH. DELIGHTFUL. The problem being: we don't flush after we pee. We let our pee marinate and then go into the fermentation stage where it takes on a petrifying odor and thick sludgy color. So I can't explain my worms any more. I don't know what color they were. Or if they represented a tapeworm or a hookworm. Who wants to buy me a poop strainer so I can really really know? And who wants to write me a worm chant? Because every worm pooper needs a chant.
Confusing moment: Yesterday a truck drove by me with some sticker decal on his back windows. In the center of the window was a white, cut-out of Jesus's head at the time of his crucifixion. Thorns and tears, obviously. To the right and left of Jesus were stripper silhouettes. So . . . . we like Jesus AND strippers? We are showing Jesus's disapproval and sadness towards the art of stripping? (Notice I said "art of stripping" and NOT "strippers".) Or . . . .......... so many questions. Were they bought at the same time? What was the thought process? "I got Jesus and my girls. Gotta have both. At all times." I just. Cant.
The reality of my inabilities: I am petrified of spiders. That last sentence is an understatement. Odd bodily functions happen when spiders are seen and involved. And yesterday was a 3 for 1 day. And all of them I had to face alone.
The first one I call a ghost spider. They generally move slow and hide where the ceiling and the wall meet, but not corners. And they're very light in color. Not intimidating at all to the normal. But the worst to me. He was eye level in the shoe closet door jam. I decided a flip flop would be a logical killing device. I crammed that flip flop with much force into the corner and missed completely. I moved the flip flop away to attack a 2nd time, but ghost spider got some of his annoying sticky web on the flip flop, so when I pulled away to cram again, that spider came off the wall and was now attached to the flip flop. Of course screaming and dancing pursued and persisted. The spider is still missing. Which makes me very uncomfortable.
Number two was a large daddy extra-long legs. In the tub. Their favorite place. I grabbed the largest bottle we had on the tub ledge, and let. it. drop. With as much force as an almost empty bottle can muster. Missed him. DL starts running. I slam the bottle down harder and get one of his legs. He crumples in a heap, unmoving. And I think I've done it. I get an extra large wad of toilet paper, because far be it for a leg to soak thru and touch my delicate skin - and as I touch his leg, he jumps up so perfect and makes a limpy dash for it. Where ever it is. And then I begin the smash war. It was terrifying, but I persisted and won.
The last was the worst. The cursed bedroom spider. Black. 1000 legs. On the ceiling. And Big D out of town. Those are ones where you say a big prayer. "Jesus and the whole heavenly host, do something. Amen." I watched it for along time. It didn't move. I turned the light off - it moved. Clearly the answer was, light on. No sleep. I looked down for 1/2 a millisecond and WW gasps. (Why yes, he's in bed with me. Because ............his name is WW.) That dang spider was gone. WW doesn't talk so he couldn't tell me. But I did know that my nightmare just got a whole lot more exciting and exciting. I still have a dump-truck load of clothes on the floor, which everybody knows is the worst when it comes to a missing spider. Literally I would have to smash all my clothes with a baseball bat before moving them to the washing machine. AND I wouldn't be able to touch them with my bare hands. The use of a pole would have to be involved.
Guys, can I tell you that Jesus hears us and miracles still are happening? That gory creature dropped to the ground, missing all of my clothes by 2 inches, and literally just sat there. Stone still. I grabbed a shoe and threw it with all my might, and smathered him all of my floor into dead tiny pieces. The shoe will stay there until Big D can mop the floor, because a smeared tissue pick-up will never do.
That's my life. That's my story.
How am I overall feeling? Tired. Mostly tired. That's been a common theme for all of this sickness. But it does move around to fatigue, exhaustion and just simple tired. I'll take tired any day.
Dinner
Steak with avocado chimichurri
Leftover riced cauliflower
Broccoli
Grilled asparagus
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