One word: Cicadas.
Depending on where you live in the Midwest (or maybe all over the US?), you're home may or may not be swarming with the little monsters. Unfortunately we happen to live in a heavily wooded neighborhood where they are everywhere and it seems,out to get me. If you remember this post you may recall that I am not a big fan of bugs. Well, to be honest, it's a little worse than just "not being a fan" of them. I have a full blown, irrationally crazy bug phobia. Case and point: I just spent 20 minutes sitting in my car, paralyzed with fear (aside from the weeping), unable to muster up the courage to simply get out and walk to my front door.... Ok, so maybe the weeping is an exaggeration, but the 20 minutes is not. It was pitiful. It doesn't help that I am married to a man who finds humor, rather than sympathy, in my terror. He is convinced that I just need to face and conquer my fear. I however, feel that for a bug that only makes an appearance every 13 years, that it's ok for me to just throw in the towel and accept defeat.
There's only one thing that can scare me more than the buzzing madness (that I can only describe as probably being comparable to the locust plague in the Old Testament), waiting outside my door: Remembering that it's not even June Bug season yet.
Oh the humanity.
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