Wednesday, March 01, 2006

You dropped a bomb on me, baby

As you all know, I’m living (or merely “existing”) at my in-law’s house. This is rotten enough in and of itself. The story about why we’re living here is long and detailed and probably kind of boring, so I’ll spare you the explanation. Let’s just say it was a series of unfortunate events, brought on by parties other than ourselves that lead us to residing at the in-laws.

The only good thing about living there is that my in-laws don’t currently live there. The bad thing about them not living there is that they don’t live there because my mother in law is getting dialysis 3 times a week, and is unable to walk because of her foot and ankle being broken. Plus she has diabetes. And a heart condition. Can anyone top that?

Sigh.

The bad things about living there are many fold. Where do I start? Oh, no nursery. After decorating a lovely nursery for my daughter, she never got the chance to enjoy it. With any luck, we’ll find a house soon… although we have to sit on that dream for now, for reasons that I will get to some other time. Anyway, all of the in-law’s stuff is still in the house. Now, I know everyone’s in-law’s have some quirky qualities. Mine do not throw anything away. When I say anything, I mean ANYTHING. There is so much shit in this tiny house that you can’t turn a corner without stumbling over something. It’s knick knack hell. You’d have to see it to believe it. So anyway, there’s no room for our stuff. So all of our stuff, with the exception of our clothes and some of Lyrics toys, is in storage. The in-laws only have a full sized bed, therefore, Ryan, Lyric and I can’t share a bed, so Ryan sleeps on the futon. I like snuggling with my baby, but I really miss hearing my husband snore.

There’s too much to name. But the thing that really gives me the heebeejeebees about that house is that there are stink bugs sharing it with us. STINK BUGS. I had no idea what a stink bug was until I moved in there. The are large and beetle like and fly. They seem to inhabit mostly the bedroom and bathroom portion of the house, although occasionally one slips into the kitchen.

Let me tell you, when it comes to bugs, I’m the prissiest little bitch EVER. I scream, I freak, I flail. It’s horrible and embarrassing.

I also don’t kill bugs. It’s the Buddhist monk part of my brain that doesn’t allow me to do this. It’s also the prissy little bitch part of my brain that is afraid of bug guts.

Ryan is in charge of killing the stink bugs. He usually gets a paper towel and squishes them in it. Well, a few days ago, anger about seeing yet ANOTHER one of these little fuckers (you only ever really see one at a time, 2 tops) overrode the Buddhist/Prissy part of my brain, and I took a plastic coat hanger and swatted at one.

I found out why they’re called stink bugs.

It was like a bomb went off in the bedroom. A strong, very strange smell poofed out of the squished bug and invaded my nasal passages. Freaked out, I ran out into the living room and told Ryan I squished one of the bugs and that it stunk to the high heavens. He didn’t quite believe me until about 30 seconds later when the smell traveled out of the bedroom, through the kitchen, and around the corner into the living room.

There will be no more squishing stink bugs in my future.

I’ll talk about the court situation and scary television tomorrow probably.

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