Thursday, June 15, 2006

Why I love my husband #241

He kills bugs for me. And not just any bugs. Weird giant beetles never-before seen in this country. Like the one that flew into my car on the way home from picking up pizza tonight for our Thursday-night takeout.

I had just slowed down for the red light when I heard this buzzing sound, followed by a swish, and saw this giant bug, flailing upside down on the dashboard in front of me. My heart started racing as I tried to figure out what it was in the rapidly fading dusk light.

It was furry like a moth, but the underside of the body looked like a large bee. Or maybe a really fat cockroach. I watched in horror as it struggled to turn itself upright. I was so afraid that once I started driving, it would finally free itself and go flying into my hair (one of my biggest fears). "God, please let me get home safely," I prayed.

The light turned green just as this freak-of-nature bug turned over and started to fly. Luckily, he flew toward the passenger side of the dashboard and made itself comfortable near the defroster vents. I kept my eye on it as I turned into my neighborhood and drove into my garage.

I went inside to ask my husband to rid my car of its demonic possession. Grabbing a flashlight, a piece of old wooden molding and some windex, he went to work. After a bit of hissing/buzzing from the bug (seriously, my husband says it's their defense mechanism, something he probably learned on all of those National Geographic and Discovery channel shows he watches), my husband scraped it closer to the driver's side with the molding, then went trigger-happy with the windex. After a long struggle, the beast was finally dead.

You know how most bugs don't look as scary once they're dead? Not this one. He was still just as big, just as furry. But we figured out that it was some sort of beetle. My husband gave it a proper burial in the garbage cans outside.

What is it with me and bugs? Seriously, I'm a bug magnet. I once felt a swish by my hair while I was shopping in a drugstore. An hour later, while lounging in my dad's recliner at home, I felt a tingling in my hair and out walked a wasp from my hair.

Several times, I've had a bee fly into my window while I was driving, causing me to silently freak out as I pulled over and jumped out flailing my arms to rid myself of the bee. Once I heard a loud buzzing in the backseat of my car and looked over to see the largest hornet I've ever seen. It was at least two inches long. No one believed me until my husband and I watched some Killer Hornets show on the National Geographic channel and I saw the thing from my car. That time, I was able to ever-so-slowly roll down my window so that it could fly out.

I was once at a bar and felt something hit my chest. I thought someone from another table had thrown something at me. I looked down and saw a June bug crawling on my shirt. Bleh.

But the worst by far had to be one night when I was going out with a friend of mine. I had my window half-way down while I was driving. At the light, my friend looked over and said, "You should roll up your window." "Why," I asked. "Because there's a bug on the window." I looked over and saw nothing. "Are you sure? I don't see anything." "It must have crawled away," she said. So we drove on for a few minutes toward a gas station. Just as we reached the gas station, I used my fingers to brush my hair back behind my ear, and felt something that didn't belong on my head. I instinctively brushed my hand down and felt something fall into the front of my shirt. I jerked the car into the gas station, and car still running, jumped out, pulling on my shirt, while stamping my feet (don't ask me why), trying to get whatever it was out of my shirt. I saw nothing, but when I looked into the car, I saw a gigantic roach crawling on the seat (I lived in Florida at the time, and if you've ever been there, you'll know that they have the biggest roaches ever there ... they're called Palmetto bugs ... and they fly). My friend, calmly as you please, flicked it out of the car and it flew away. A couple of really cute guys were getting gas, and one of them asked, "Are you OK?" I looked over and said, "Yeah, I just had a roach in my hair." Note to self, not a good pick-up line.

So there you have it. My life as a bug magnet. If you ever need a bug repellent, just invite me over. They'll leave you alone for sure.

Crossing with the light

There's a new person in my life who is the bane of my existence. I don't know her name. I've never even officially met her. But I've seen her every morning for the past month, and she's driving me crazy.

She's the new friendly neighborhood crossing guard. She's located at the corner where I turn right every morning to drive the not-even-a-quarter-of-a-block to Boogie's preschool.

I know this woman fills an important role, holding up her hand-held stop sign to allow the little kids to cross the street on their way to school. Notice I said little kids. That's what crossing guards should be for. I'll even give her a little leeway when it comes to the young high school kids. Usually they jaywalk across the street, so if they're actually using the crosswalk, they deserve a little safe passage. I have no problem waiting until kids completely cross the street.

But that's where it ends. Crossing guards do not need to help adults cross the street. Yes, I said adults. This old woman, who is spending her last years on earth wearing a neon green plastic vest, will hold up that damned sign whenever an adult crosses the street.

This is a four-lane street that has a median that divides the two sides of the street. If an adult is crossing at the far side of the street, I still have time to make a right turn before they ever reach the median. But, this woman still feels the need to hold up the sign, and her hand, and stare you down, daring you to make that right turn.

Today, though, she sent me over the edge. She was on the far side of the street. No one was around. She decided that all of a sudden she had to be on my side of the street. So when the light turned green, she started walking back across, holding up the dreaded stop sign. Are crossing guards allowed to help themselves across the street? It sounds like a conflict of interest to me.

And did I mention she was old? It took her the entire time of the green light to cross the street. I sat there helpless, staring longingly at my daughter's preschool, knowing I wouldn't be able to make the light before the traffic started moving again on the intersecting street. Traffic, I might add, that has the luxury of a REALLY long light.

So I waited, praying a child wouldn't come up by the next green light so that I could finally make that turn. Luckily I was able to continue my journey on the next light. Is it wrong to hate a little old lady in a lime green vest?