There are times, oh yes there are times, when the only satisfaction one can find in the world is that of utter and complete silence or at least silence from the world outside. Today has been one of the afore mentioned times.
Early this morning I stepped outside carrying a few things I needed to put in the trash bins. The bins sit up against the back wall of the house along the brick walkway which according to my husband makes them easily accessible from the gate. From where they sit it is pretty easy to just roll them besides the house a few feet, through the gate and out onto the curb however, they are also in the prime spot for our sticky infestation.
What is a sticky infestation, any naturally curious person might ask but I warn you it is no laughing matter and once you’ve heard about it the laws of the universe and all that crap will spin their little wheels and the next thing you know you too will have a sticky infestation.
A sticky infestation is what has been happening in my backyard every summer for the last 5 summers. Apparently there is this little white, cotton-looking, flying bug from China that likes the taste of hackberry trees so much that they came all the way to America to burrow into the bark of my hackberry tree during the winter and then come out by the droves in the summer heat to completely coat and cover the entire tree and anything within dripping distance, with their poop
When I went out to the trash cans this morning I was of course wearing only socks because who the hell puts on their shoes to take out the trash? By the time I made it back inside I had a handful of leaves glued to the bottom of my socks. I have a peculiar obsession about the texture of my socks (that’s a story for another time) and this bug poop completely changes the way my socks feel on my feet.
I looked up at that damn tree and I got really pissed off. Pissed off at my husband because this tree was supposed to be chopped down 4 years ago after the pest control company told us it would take 5 years of very expensive medicinal treatment to get rid of the infestation. I got pissed off at the tree just for its very stickiness and of course I couldn’t help hating those fucking little bugs who came and ruined the shady tree that kept my patio somewhat cool in the summer months.
I set about washing off the brickwork. I had to lock the dogs inside because they want to play in the water and I didn’t feel like having three soaking wet sticky dogs to deal with. As I stood there spraying the bicycles down with dishwashing detergent and water I got even more pissed off and decided I’d fix this damned situation.
Next thing you know I was hacking away at the tree with this stupid saw-blade-on-a-stick thingy. Leaves, bugs and bug poop were everywhere; in my hair, on my clothes, flying through the air; it was quite literally a cloud of the stuff.
When I got done I was feeling quite proud of myself, She-ra destroyer of trees, bugs and poop; I was in a pre-T-T-y good mood.
Then my husband came home.
He asked my why I wouldn’t help him when he wanted to hack at the tree. Now that’s a long, long story; longer even than this one. Ok, so I get involved in enough projects that go wrong to warrant the occasion Lucille Ball reference but at least I make the attempt to do something. Hubby on the other hand is a professional procrastinator and I have zero patience when it comes to waiting on someone else to get something done so let’s just suffice it to say that it’s not my job and leave it at that before another war gets started.
Anyhow after a bit of friendly fire I was in a bad mood. Plain out grumpy was what I was.
Then my son came home.
I could go on all day about teenagers but that we be a long, long story; longer even than this one so let’s just suffice it to say that no I’m not buying him anymore clothes right now especially expensive name brand band shirts because I said so that’s why!
About this time I decided to grab my Mp3 player and tune everyone out. I made hot ham and grilled cheese sandwiches, ate dinner, read a little from one of my books, tucked my daughter in bed and even wrote this post and I haven’t heard a word anybody has said.
I completely understand the beauty of earbuds and I also understand why my son wears them.
Raunchy Taters 
September 12, 2007 at 5:14 am |
I would love to comment but I have to wait until ‘Stairway to Heaven’ ends on my IPod.