When friends tell me of their simultaneous bowel/vomiting inducing intestinal parasites, I try to comfort them, but can’t exactly relate because the Ferguson stomach, which we all know is an iron tank, appears to protect me against anything (knock on wood)! I laugh, so comfortably, whenever my friends call me about weird bug stories because I have yet to have a nasty encounter…
SWEET JESUS what is on my shirt?!
Not sitting so pretty now, am I??
So I’m doing some laundry this morning and I had left all my t-shirts to soak the night before. I seem to incapable of getting anything clean and soaking seems to be, in my twisted mind, the missing link. So I scrub out my shirt on the washboard, making sure to hit the pits stains a couple of extra times, rinse and hang. Well, I hang the shirt up and I notice what looks to be dirt … “Dammit Hannah, you can’t get anything clean!” I scratch the “dirt” with my nail because scratching it off counts as “clean,” and I realize that the dirt is unusually hard and hasn’t budged … HRRMMMM.
Whatever it is is under my shirt … :Hannah peaks:
“WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?! OH MY GOD! SO GROOOOOOSSSSS!”
God, I gotta call someone. I abandon the shirt and run into the kitchen.
A) Becky – No answer.
B) Darren – No answer.
PEOPLE THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!
C) Kathryn – ANSWER!
Me: “BUG. BUG. Weird bug on my shirt! So gross. Help me!”
Kathryn: “What? I can’t understand … :I tell her the story: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Take a picture!”
Seriously, I’m writing this blog in the moment. I have moved my computer and chair outside because the weird alien bug (still clinging to my shirt) is on my kitchen table (I took her advice and took pictures). This thing is a cross between a spider and a scorpion. SO GROSS! I can’t … I might just trash this shirt so I don’t have to deal with trying to get it off. Luckily, it’s dead from the pila. EWWWWW I can’t handle this. NOT COOL! I’m so desperate I want to go over to the construction guys and have them get it off my shirt. I so would if it weren’t for the fact they’d make fun of me for the rest of my life. I can’t … I’m going to ignore it for a while and just finish my laundry. If there are more … Dear God if there are more …
- Several Days Later -
I think that shirt hung on my clothes line for 4 - 5 days. Dimitry had to stay over last night and I finally made him take it off. He thought it was awesome and I though it needed to relinquish my shirt from its fangs. Every time I walked past the shirt I eyed it, warily, out of the corner of my eyes. Not cool. Not cool.
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