Each day, things come to my attention that I cannot help but wonder about. Why am I the way I am and is there any hope for me? Why were spiders created and why do they torment me so? Will I ever figure out what I want from life or will it forever elude me? Why do dog farts smell so bad? Why does it usually rain right after I wash my car? When I die, will any of my relatives be waiting to greet me (on the other side)? When people sleep, how is it possible for them to make such unusual sounds with their mouths? Why on earth were avocado green and burnt orange ever trendy colors for appliances and carpet? How come mental illness runs in families and will I end up certifiably nuts like my father? Why do people care about ‘the Royals’? Even more perplexing, why do people care about that ‘reality show’ family with all of the Ks in their names? And lastly, why is my friend M’s sister getting a glass eye with a witch sitting on a pumpkin painted on it?
Are these all the things I think about from day to day? Oh, no. I’ve only scratched the surface. Actually, on that note, I should begin with my friend M’s sister because that was the perfect introduction. You’re probably wondering why she’s getting a glass eye in the first place. I certainly did. Apparently, a lot can happen in a year and a half. According to her, when she got a brand new puppy in January of last year, the puppy managed to scratch her eye with one of its nails. Approximately 4-5 days after that occurred, she decided to take a soak in her hot tub. Not long after her ‘soak’, she started having troubles with her vision. Are you ready for this? She wasn’t alone in the hot tub, as it turns out. Unknown to her, she was sharing it with some rather hungry parasites. Somehow those nasty creatures accessed the inner part of her eyeball through that scratch and fattened up quite nicely after consuming the entire contents. I know…I’m sorry! That was a horrible thing to start out with.
I’m as disturbed about it today as I was a couple of weeks ago when she told me about it. Needless to say, she no longer has one of her eyes. Because of this, she’s getting a customized eyeball made. What I cannot begin to understand is why, of all the things you can have put on an eyeball, would she pick a witch sitting on a pumpkin? See what I mean? It’s beyond human comprehension. And since I’m on a topic related to Halloween, I see no better opportunity to bring up one of my least favorite things, spiders. Ack!!!! Spiders!!!! Why???? Last night, I had nightmares about the damn things! I kid you not, they were about 6 inches in diameter (about the size of a small salad plate). Day and night they haunt me. Just this evening, right after I brought in all three of my hummingbird feeders in order to clean them and change out the syrup, guess what I discovered (to my horror)? Two of the feeders had stowaways. Come on! One leapt off one of the feeders when I set it in the kitchen sink and the other was hiding inside the upper plastic portion of another.
Of all the places they can ‘hang out’, why must they choose my hummingbird feeders? There are so many other places that would work out just as well. Do they do it just to taunt me?! The spider leaping off the feeder was startling enough but the one in the plastic portion (that screws to the glass bottle) nearly did me in. As soon as I unscrewed it and flipped it upside down, I noticed the cocoon right smack in the center. I don’t think it appreciated me disturbing its slumber because it started trying to escape the cocoon ‘feet first’. It reminded me of the movie ‘Alien’. I saw those spindly legs moving rapidly and I ran outside in a jiffy. I tried to tap the plastic piece on the deck to dislodge the spider but that didn’t work so I then attempted to extract it with a pine needle that was resting on the ground nearby. However, rather than gently removing the eight-legged stowaway and each of us going about our business, I somehow managed to flick it (towards myself).
I never did manage to figure out where it landed but I shook out my hair and clothes with vigor after that little incident took place. I even had my husband give me a close inspection after I went back inside. I’ve had the creepy-crawlies ever since. I still think that sucker’s hitching a ride on me somewhere. It had better not be, because if it is and I find out, I’m going to fire off a scream that will wake the dead. If anything, it will definitely wake my husband from his slumber and possibly some of our neighbors. Speaking of ‘husband’ and ‘slumber’, while I was laying in bed last night, suffering from yet another bout of insomnia, I listened to the noises that my husband was making (with his mouth). How are we, as humans, capable of making such loud and obnoxious sounds with our mouths? When my husband was inhaling, it sounded like he was either choking to death or cutting down half the trees in the forest. When he was exhaling, I couldn’t tell whether he was trying to blow up a balloon or an air mattress. Either way, it went on for hours.
Hey, I’m not trying to point fingers. I’m just as bad myself! I just don’t understand why we cannot make more comforting sounds like a kitten purring or a babbling brook. Oh, hey! There’s the perfect segue to ‘why am I the way I am?’ Seriously, why am I? Why do certain sounds make me want to climb the walls? How come (for instance), when I hear someone snap their gum or click their pen or chew on their nails, I want to wrap both of my hands around their neck? And is it just me, or do others hear what-sounds-like music playing when the furnace is running? I thought it only happened in my house, but when I stayed in my brother’s trailer and the furnace came on, it happened there as well. I’m really beginning to think I’m losing it. Wait a second, hang on. I just did a ‘Google Search’ and (thank goodness) I’m not the only one that experiences this weird phenomenon. I guess it’s called ‘Musical Ear Syndrome’. Over five percent of the population suffers from it. Oh, yay! Lucky me.
I guess when I die someday, I’ll (hopefully) shed all of these ‘conditions’ and such. Speaking of dying, last week we had our friend ‘A’ over. She shared with us that late last year, she flew out to Hawaii in order to spend time with a friend whose body had been ravaged by cancer. She was literally at death’s door and in the care of hospice. Before she crossed to the other side, she would often ask our friend ‘A’ if she was also able to see the ‘the other people in the room’ (i.e.; little boy hovering overhead or the grandpa figure). It made me wonder if anyone was going to bother to meet up with me when the grim reaper comes knocking at my door? I suppose if my Mom leaves this planet before me, she might make an effort. The others? I kind of doubt it. I really wasn’t close to either of my fathers or my grandfathers. The same goes for all of my aunts and uncles and cousins. If my paternal or maternal grandmothers ever had an inclination, if they’ve read my blog, neither will likely show. Who does that leave? My sister?
Gosh, if nobody shows up, what does that mean? Does that mean I’ll be just as ‘alone’ and ‘lonely’ in the afterlife as I am now? If that’s the case, that really bites! I hope I’ll at least get a pet bunny for companionship. I’d rather have a dog or cat but if all of the dogs and cats have been divvied out, I’ll take a bunny! Well, that is unless they fart. I mean, if it’s not too smelly, I might not mind. But if it’s anything like a clear-the-room, Rover-got-into-the-trash-again fart, I’ll probably pass on the bunny. Come to think of it, if I have to clean out another litter box or pick up one more pile of dog poop, I don’t know that I’m too keen on a canine or feline either. Knowing my luck, I’ll end up paired with another former human ‘cast off’ who (unlike myself) has a penchant for snapping their gum, clicking their pen, and chewing their nails. If that wasn’t bad enough, they’ll probably snore like a freight train, too. I just hope I catch a break in the ‘afterlife’. ‘Life’ has dealt me more than my fair share of challenges.