I hate to do this to the public, but a 2nd note in seven hours is more than necessary. After attempting to go to bed at approximately 12:30 a.m., the night began to go awry. A horrible, unidentified rash has ferociously spread about my left arm, and the itching is too much to bear.
Next: I climb in bed; fifteen seconds later, some obnoxious hooligans on the AB side start blaring their megaphone siren out the window and yelling things about boobies and drunkedness and so forth, eventually getting other people on different floors riled up and joining in. This obscenity proceeds for the next 12 minutes or so until, in a frustrated attempt to roll over and change positions, I get what I presume is a hang nail of some sort caught in my blanket at the foot of my bed. I get up to investigate, and it appears that in the midst of my panic (next story) earlier in the night, I had kicked something and broken my pinky toe-nail right in half, and it was now dangling off in a painful manner. A small surgical procedure proceeded, and then I diagnosed myself with temporary insomnia from all the commotion.
Previous reference to what happened tonight elaborated: Alright, in case you don’t remember, Amy and I had a ridiculous fiasco involving our window screen in the kitchen after we removed it to throw trash out the window because we’re lazy and inventive–long story short, we broke it but still somehow made it fit back into the window frame in a make-shift manner; very questionable.
Anyway, I don’t know if you’re familiar with meteorology, but the weather has been a little on the ferocious side the past couple of days with pelting rain and blustery winds and so on. Today, Amy discovered that our screen in the kitchen, bless its soul, had apparently blown away. That bitch is gone. It’s nowhere to be seen, and there’s little to no evidence that it ever existed in the first place. Regardless, we had better things to do than worry about a missing screen, for example, eat, sleep, or play Text Twist, so we paid it no attention and decided to deal with it later.
Later ended up being somewhere north of 9 hours later when Nick informed me that our screenless window had become a very attractive entrance to the entire insect population of Iowa City. Now, I don’t know if you know this about me, but if there is one thing I hate more than Jon Basedow or minorities, it’s bugs. I HATE bugs. So I panic and flee to the kitchen to examine how bad the situation is, and find, to my delight, ladybugs crawling all over the light, moths fluttering in the corners of the ceiling, a large, prehistoric looking mammoth bug with too many legs in front of the refrigerator, and a bright green beetle that resembled a small tank, not to mention the other small creatures that invited themselves in.
I’m freaking out trying to figure out how to kill them all while Marcus and Nick are tossing bugs at Steve and allowing them to escape into my bedroom, and then Nick kills a fly and puts in my freezer. IN, my FREEZER. WHY!? Why, Nick? Why. His argument is that all my food is sealed in packages.
I….don’t…..care. Now I’m going to contract malaria next time I eat a Hot Pocket. Thanks a bunch, asshole.
Anyway, most of that is taken care of. I still twitch and lurch about every time I feel a tickle of some sort on the back of my neck, and I will continue to be paranoid about arachnids in my bed at night, but at least we nipped the problem in the bud, and by “in the bud” I mean 9 hours after it could have been prevented.
“If God wanted man to fly….he would have stuck wings out his ass.”