Some calls it madness

I have a problem. Well, let me not start out with such a blatant falsehood: I have many problems, but am writing only about this one in particular today (if you want to know about my other problems, please pose as an online therapist and I may gladly spill my guts). Here’s the problem proving most vexsome to me recently: bugs. Bugs is used here as a catch-all for everything that creeps, crawls, flits, flies, and does all or some of those without the use of a backbone. I will start with the least annoying (but still somewhat) of my recent encounters: moths. Somehow, these little tiny moths keep getting in my house. Seems like I find one flittering in my kitchen every day. I catch it (non-violence extends to even my insect brethren) and release it outside. For all I know, it could be the same moth that keeps getting in (I’ve never inquired as to their names and I think these things die after a couple of weeks, anyway). On top of that, spiders (which I know are not insects: please refer to the disclaimer I wrote, jerkwad) have apparently decided that I should be eaten alive. They have staked out their gauzy nets across the entries to my home, each one secretly hoping to be the one to finally catch me unawares and birth a seemingly infinite number of generations from the bounty of my desiccated carcass. Either that, or they are trying to be helpful and recreate one of the sets from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (which was the shittiest movie in that trilogy anyway). The other night, I even had one that started to spin a web inside. Like in the hallway. That did it: I grabbed the broom, swept the little bastard down from the ceiling, and then took it outside. Hey, spiders eat lots of harmful insects like mosquitoes: they deserve to live. Even when they get inside my house. The things that don’t deserve to live are the carpenter ants I have started seeing in my house. Those fuckers die a swift death. I ain’t re-redoing this house cuz of no fucking ants. The cream on top of this wriggly cake came today, when I went out for a bike ride. I bought a new bike and decided that I am always going to wear my helmet even though it makes me look mental (although perhaps “more mental” would be the most accurate). I buckled on my helmet, and set off on my merry way. Well, I haven’t gotten more than 20 seconds into this ride when I heard a bzzz and the poing of something bouncing on my helmet. I processed this to mean that I crossed paths with a bee, it rebounded off my helmet, no harm, no foul. UNTIL I felt the tickle of little legs brushing the hairs on my head, and an angrier sort of BZZZZZ. That’s when I realize I need to do something foolish: either I will begin to bang myself on the head, trying to dislodge the bee from the helmet groove it has fallen into (and probably ending up stung in the bargain), or I will quickly stop, unbuckle my helmet, and fling it a reasonable distance away from me. Since I didn’t particularly enjoy the last time I got stung, I decided to choose option 2. I quickly braked, unbuckled, and flung. I’m sure it was an interesting spectacle to the car that drove past me just then. Yes: definitely more mental.