A million years ago, Frank and I were taking a beekeeping class at Stonewall Farms in Keene New Hampshire. I was sitting by a couple who had just moved there from Hawaii.
Why on earth would you leave Hawaii for New Hampshire, I asked?
Bugs, they answered.
Last night, I had just pulled up the sheet as I was ready to drift off to sleep when a centipede landed on my stomach.
Yeah. Hmm.
It took a xanax to sleep because changed sheets wasn’t enough and burned homes suck.
I might sleep outside with Disa and the geese tonight.
Noooo!!! Years ago in DC when I slept on a futon on the floor I was woken up by a big bug in bed with me, not as big as a Hawaiian centipede, but big enough that I didn’t sleep much that night. When I read that the total biomass of bugs has been radically declining I feel mournful, but then I think, there are there still so many in my kitchen, and I want them gone.
Yesterday I was sitting on the porch when a spider dropped on my book. I flicked it off just feeling lucky it hadn’t landed on me.