I had big plans for today. Cleatus was working a double shift, meaning he wouldn’t be home until 3 this afternoon instead of his usual 6am. I planned on waking up early, getting showered, getting the kids up and having breakfast and then kicking some major butt on our school work so that we could go to the splash park this afternoon. It was going to be the best day ever and I was so looking forward to it.

I had just laid down on the couch to watch Days of Our Lives and I was so comfortable and knew that I was going to drift off to sleep and sleep really well and Yay! A good night and a good day! What happiness!

And thats when I heard the noise.

I wondered if Cleatus had turned the washing machine on before he left because it sounded a bit like the spin cycle, but HAHAHA! NO! He wouldn’t do that. So, I sat there and willed myself to believe that I had turned it on and just forgotten about it. After a few seconds of wishful thinking I knew that I was going to have to face the fact that SOMETHING was wrong in our laundry room.

I slowly got up and crept back there, knowing that whatever it was would not make me happy.

I couldn’t see anything but I could certainly hear the sounds of water. I walked into the room and stepped on a pile of soggy clothes that I had tossed out of the dryer and neglected to fold. I looked at the water heater. And realized that the pipe pumping the water into the water heater had broken and so instead of pumping water into the water heater it was instead pumping water onto my floor. Lots of water. On my floor.

Cleatus was at work, but I didn’t know what to do so I ran out of the room and called him. He told me that I was going to have to GO IN THE CRAWL SPACE TO SHUT OFF THE WATER. The crawlspace? Haha. He’s so silly. That place is for BOYS ONLY. It is dark, it is made out of dirt, it has bugs and worms and snakes and spiders and did I mention it is THE BIG DARK WHOLE UNDER OUR HOUSE? So, instead of crawling down in it, I was able to move the dryer and just reach down into the OTHER crawl space opening and turn it off. Without actually going down into it. Which is good, because had I needed to get in the hole I probably would have drowned. There was so much water down in the crawl space that I’m surprised our house hasn’t drifted out to sea.

I got the water shut off, but of course that didn’t, you know, STOP THE WATER. The water needed to be turned off from the outside. But, I didn’t know how to do that, so it was left trickling out until this morning when my father in law came over and saved the day.

And then I mopped. And mopped. And mopped some more.

And didn’t do a bit of school work or anything else productive. But, hey, at least I got to play at the spray park. Sure, it was a slight inconvenience to have the spray park IN MY HOUSE, but whatever.

And now I’m going to go mop. Again.

Did anyone notice the blankets strewn about my couch in that video of Cindy-Lu? No? Well. They are there because of the bugs. They have been there since June 14. Yes. I have been sleeping on the couch for 3 weeks. Its actually pretty comfy.

You know what is not so comfy? And not so relaxing? And really not very conducive to sleep?

A BIG MOTHERFUCKING BUG FLYING AT MY FACE AND LANDING IN MY GOD DAMN HAIR. IN THE DARK. ON MY HEAD. FLYING. LANDING. HITTING ME. ON THE HEAD. IN MY HAIR. IN THE DARK. BEFORE BED.

You wouldn’t believe the string of words that came out of my mouth. I actually started laughing halfway through because, honestly, I’ve never heard anyone use the word fuck so creatively or loudly before. It would have been really funny if I were watching the panic attack of the century happen to someone else. I mean the part where I was frantically smacking myself in the head to be sure that the bug wasn’t still in my hair while trying to grab my t-shirt off the floor so I wouldn’t have to flee the house naked and simultaneously darting my eyes around the room looking for the bastard while screeching FUCK FRICK MOTHERFUCK SHITFUCKDAMN FUCKING FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK, well…it would have been pretty damn entertaining if it weren’t happening to me.

And now that my heart rate is, oh, approximately 400 beats per minute, I’m having a wee bit of a problem getting back to sleep.

And the flying bug is still on the loose. Which means that not only do I not know what the fuck kind of bug it was (a flying wood roach? a bee? a flying earwig? a fucking pterodactyl?), I also don’t know where it is or when it will attack again.

Sleep well, my internet friends. Enjoy your bug free homes. I’ll be sitting here on the couch that is no longer safe, weeping because my house is a god damn bug infested hell hole.

Next thing you know I’ll have frogs raining down from my ceiling.

I have a small confession to make. Potential buyers of my house please back away from the computer.

We are not looking for a new house ONLY because we have outgrown this one. It is also not because we really would like a basement for Cleatus to go do manly things in or a two stall garage for me to park my minivan in. It’s not really because Cindy-Lu’s bedroom is rinky dinky small and its not because we are in desperate need of a second bathroom.

Sure, those are all contributing factors.

But, the real reason? The reason that had me panicking and rushing Cleatus to GET SHIT DONE so that we could move out LAST MONTH?

Earwigs. That link contains facts and pictures if your interested in the evil that plagues us.

Last year we noticed these bugs were hanging around the trim in our bedroom. Disgusting! And then, by some miracle (and by miracle I mean HORRIBLE TWIST OF FATE) they multiplied. And oh my god, I mean they MULTIPLIED. We ended up spending the summer sleeping on the pull out couch in our living room because the earwigs had literally taken over our bedroom. We didn’t use our bedroom for the entire summer. I’m not even exaggerating one little bit. We closed the door and only opened it every now and again to see if the bugs had piled up so high that we could declare the house a fucking national park for earwigs.

Now, I know y’all don’t really know me and therefore you don’t understand what a big deal these little bugs are to me. I don’t know what it is about insects but I dislike them. Very, very much. The English language does not permit me to really explain how I feel about insects. So, rather than try, I will just tell you that it is bad. I do not function well near bugs.

Fast forward to this Spring, when Cleatus and I were discussing moving now or waiting for another year or so and we both decided to wait. Hopefully next year Cleatus will be making more money and we’ll have a better handle on our finances and know what we can afford since I just recently stopped working.

And then I remembered that it was Spring. And that THE EARWIGS WERE COMING (said in the tone of some creepy old lady with emphysema and a witch’s hat). Needless to say it only took about two seconds of me screaming about the bugs before Cleatus agreed that it might just be wise for us to move RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.

Unfortunately, it is June, and we are still here. So far we haven’t seen too many earwigs. I believe this is because we didn’t put an air conditioner in our bedroom (they like cool areas and we like our bedroom COLD). Don’t get me wrong, I’ve killed a few of the bastards. (Did you know that you can’t squish them? You have to flush them down the toilet! Seriously. They just come back to life if you squish them.) But, our bedroom wasn’t being invaded like it was last year and all was well.

Until last night. I went into our room to get ready for bed and I picked up the sheet to shake it out onto the bed (Cleatus had gotten out of bed not to long before that and the covers were a jumbled mess) and guess what I found? No, really. Guess.

That’s right. I found an earwig. In my motherfucking bed.

Do you know why earwigs are named earwigs? Do you? Did you click the link up there? Because it tells you why.

ITS BECAUSE PEOPLE (used to) THINK THAT THEY CRAWL IN THE EARS OF SLEEPING PEOPLE AND BURROW INTO THEIR BRAINS.

I know, you are having a hard time reading this while breathing into a paper bag, but trust me, its much harder on my end. I have to go find a paper bag, check it for bugs, breathe into it, and type all at the same time. All the while my eyes are darting around the room looking for earwigs waiting for me to fall asleep so they can quite literally suck my fucking brains out.

You can bet your ass that I have relocated to the couch.

Sweet fucking dreams.

The Realtor is coming to looking at our house on Wednesday at 9am. And what have I done to prepare? Well, um, I…uh…I just washed the dinner dishes. Oh, and earlier I…no, I didn’t. Earlier I finished the book I was reading. And this morning I laid on the couch and played with Cindy-Lu. But, tonight? Tonight I’m going to clean.

I have to clean my refrigerator, clean Cindy-Lu’s bedroom from top to bottom (I would take a picture, but my Aunt Kimmy borrowed my camera and Cleatus would have a stroke if I posted a picture of what a slob I am on the internet), clean my bedroom from top to bottom (again with the HORRIBLE MESSY ROOM LIKE YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE!!), clean and organize all closets, clean the bathtub, and mop the entire house (whose idea was it to get wood floors? Mine? That was dumb.) and I’m sure I’ll find many more projects to complete.

I don’t even want to think about what the outside of the house looks like. Thankfully Cleatus is off tomorrow so he will be banished to the yard working and weeding and mowing and sweeping and not even thinking about his Playstation 3.

I guess this means I don’t get to think about you guys tomorrow. Damn.