Friday, July 9, 2010
Here's to a Bug in Your Eye
I have a bug’s leg in my eye.
At around 5 a.m., I go for walks around a nature sanctuary by my house.
Yes, at 5 a.m.
Everyone is still wrapped in jammies and blankets, safe in their bug-free zone. Even the ducks, worms, and mice have smarts enough to stay in bed.
But almost every morning, I have breakfast – a protein-filled breakfast – during my walk.
Usually, a bug or two.
I don’t plan this. This is not something that I stumble blindly out of bed, putting on clothes backwards and inside out, thinking ‘YAY! I get to eat bugs today!’
Survivorman (survival reality TV show), or any of those other guys who risk malaria, scurvy or typhoid fever for the sake of a few TV ratings would be proud of me, I guess.
I am sure they are great guys, and although I have no doubt I will one day have a use for knowing how to make life-saving tea out of scorpion pee, they are not who I aspire to be.
And you have to wonder why no women host these kinds of shows.....
Men are from Mars, and all that, I guess....
But I digress.
Back to my breakfast.
A bug flies in my mouth, and in a fit of gagging, coughing, and frantically wiping my palms (unattractively) over my extended tongue like a cat (although not as gracefully), I try spitting as elegantly as a lady can at 5 a.m., and nothing works.
And down the hatch it goes. In one gag-filled gulp.
Some might say ‘Keep your mouth shut!’ Well, that’s just silly. When I am in power-walking mode, my arms are pumping, the pony-tail is swinging, chin is up, chest is out, shoulders are back, and all the while I am elegantly puffing in-through-the-nose-out-through-the-mouth.
But sometimes when I get REALLY into it, I confuse the in-nose/out-mouth bit, and then it’s breakfast time for me.
After I have calmed down from the whole fiasco, face still wet from gag-induced tears, I carry on, enjoying all the wonders of nature.
To the present:
I have just finished my daily breakfast, and am appreciating the natural wonders around me, when I come to a brake-slamming halt. I almost trip on my perfectly tied shoelaces, and curse all of Mother Nature’s creatures from here to Antarctica.
The cousin of who I just ate has now slammed himself (it IS obviously a boy) RIGHT into my eye in a fit of Kamikaze rebellion.
I dance around (which cannot be good for digestion), my pony tail bouncing as I rub and whack my eye. I can’t get him out. I have to get home to a mirror and pull my lower lid down to my chin for the bug extraction.
Unless I happen upon a parked car on the way home and borrow their side mirror. But I dare not for fear of the fuzz showing up, claiming an anonymous call about a potential car thief.
Ya right – LOOK AT ME! My eyes are swollen, my clothes are on inside out/backwards. I have just eaten a bug, there is spit all over my face, and my hat is askew from my frantic face-whacking. Do I LOOK like a car thief? And aren’t people supposed to be in bed at this hour?
Perhaps wearing head-to-toe Gucci for my walks will make me look less threatening.
Anyways.....I finally arrive home, race to the washroom, and yank down my eye lid. AHA! There you are, you sicko! I stick my finger in, and extract. Gotcha!
I blink and blink. And blink. And blink some more.
There’s still something in there.
Back down the eyelid gets yanked – and there it is.
I try everything – a finger, a Q-tip, toilet paper twisted to such a sharp point it’s no wonder I don’t poke my eye out.
And I can’t get it. I rinse with water, I rub furiously, but it’s totally embedded.
One. Solitary. Leg.
Time is ticking, and I have to get to work - with a bug-leg in my eye.
I guess I should be proud, knowing I won’t let a leg in my eye stop me from going to work. I can smugly walk around work with this ‘secret’ – they don’t know how tough I really am! If I tell everyone, they will surely give me looks of admiration, whispering to each other ‘There she is, SurvivorWOMAN!’
So I sit at my desk, the leg still in my eye, and raise my tea in toast to you for reading this far - ‘Here’s to a bug in your eye!’
(author’s note: there is no real message here – nothing for you to learn – except maybe to wear a face-shield when walking with Mother Nature)