Nowhere is safe

Today is my first Friday off with the new schedule. Rather than begin bad habits that would be hard to break, I got up at the same time I do on the days I work. That was hard, too, because I reallllllllllly wanted to sleep more. A lot of more.

After the kids got off to school, I sat down with my coffee to watch a few minutes of the Today show before I got busy. I grabbed my sneakers because I'd like to have one day a week that my feet don't scream at me to quit standing on them continually all day long because it's just not fair that feet have that much pressure on them to perform and ya know, walk and stuff in such cute shoes.

After I put on my shoes I turned off the TV, grabbed the coffee cup and headed out here to Kollij Central where the motto is, take your pick:

All Misery, All the Time
Where Algebra is King. An evil, evil King.
t+h-i(s) = s(uc) + k - s
Your Family Supports You Even Though You Haven't Seen Them in Weeks
The Crock Pot Is Your Friend
M-O-O-N spells "Macroeconomics Ain't For Sissies"

I could go on, but I shan't. Because there really is a story here.

I ended up on the phone with The Queen of Cheese and while I was pacing my living room talking to her, I felt something in my shoe. Now, I may have enough OCD to alphabetize my canned goods, videos and books, but my shoes are a different story. I kick those puppies off in my room wherever I first stop. If it's by the dresser to take off my earrings, there the shoes will lie. If it's at the computer, well, kicky sandals live there. My shoes are a veritable explosion of sole. Now, the kids have to walk through my bedroom to go feed the animals in the morning and they are not necessarily the neatest children to walk the planet. I find dogfood in the carpet all the time. Kibbles and bits are not fun to step on in the middle of the night either, just for the record. So when I felt something rolling around in the toe of my shoe, I thought it was a kibble. Or a bit. Or maybe a cute little fish or bone shaped morsel.

I crammed the phone between my head and my shoulder and proceeded to take off my shoe. I thumped it on the ground to knock out the offending morsel and nothing came out. Now, I knew that whatever it was in my shoe was pretty big and should've rolled out onto the floor because of gravity and all that. I thumped harder. Nothing. No kibble. No bit. No dog bone.

I picked up the shoe and looked inside and

there
was
a
cricket
in
my
shoe.

A cricket. A BIG cricket.

And because my life is one big slapstick routine that rivals Jerry Lewis or Laurel and Hardy sometimes, just about the time I realized that the kibble in my shoe was not kibbel but INSECT, the cricket jumped at me. His blood-tinged fangs snapped just short of my nose as he jumped out of my shoe and at me. Now, had I not been on the phone with TQoC, I'd have screamed and likely had a heart attack, but instead I just calmly said, "Dammit. There was a cricket in my shoe," like I was commenting on the weather.

Yet my heart was beating wildly in my chest and I could feel a heart attack just right there.

So I grabbed the shoe that had moments before been filled with foot and cricket and chased his hopping ass all over my living room, all while I calmly continued my conversation with TQoC.

Kollij has taught me how to multitask. And has obviously taught me how to supress my fear of insects. Or maybe it's just the lack of sleep has dulled my ability to feel emotion. Any and all of those may apply.