Yes, I am comparing myself to a bug. You are too. Any bug, really, fits the description. I’d like to say I’m a lady bug, but nobody likes them any more because they are annoying…. Hey!
Thank God I am not a cicada! Stupid things live in the ground until their cotillion age, or something like that. Then they shed, leaving crispy locust casts all over the place, take up flying without proper training, mate with another stupid cicada and become part of a 17 year feast for all things with mouths. Potatoes, taste just like potatoes. Uh huh. No thanks.
In due time, actually as soon as it hits 50 degrees, we come out buzzing, looking for things to perk up our boring lives. We don’t waste time. We get our yards and decks and coolers ready as we know that soon will be our time to relish, to bask, to… sweat OUR ASSES OFF!
Crap! How can I forget those gross days of stagnant heat and misery? Those days you don’t and won’t hang out in nature. You hole up in the basement, which everyone knows is always the coolest room in the house. You can’t wait for the fall when the kids go back to school. You can’t wait for the fall when you can cover up your too high BMI in jeans and sweatshirts.
But unlike bugs, we complain when the weather is too hot or too cold. When our electric bill is bigger than the bill from labor and delivery of all four kids births. When the days are too long and we can’t get the kids to bed. Or in the fall when the days become too short and we can’t get the kids to bed.
Who knows? Maybe they complain too. I’ll have to ask the Dweedle Bugs later when I see them in my flower box.
But I’m still a bug. I will go in when it rains and go out when it’s sunny. I will eat and drink the summer away and hope I had enough fun to last me through the long, hard winter. I will come out again in the spring and let the cycle continue.
Happy Belated Mother’s Day by the way! I was being a bug and just had a little too much nectar.