I can never use my bathroom again.
I go out of my way not to show prejudice to any living thing. Except, of course, on Monday mornings when I despise every creature on earth equally.
But in general, I work very hard to have an open mind. Just last night I had an open mind about chocolate cake. Chocolate cake has come by a very bad reputation for hip and thigh abuse, but in my efforts to be fair, I had a big piece. This has nothing to do with my bathroom, but goes to show that I am a reasonable and open-minded person. In an unrelated thought, it occurs to me I might turn off comments to this post as a precautionary measure.
This morning, I took Lucy the Diva Dachshund out the front door to soil my lawn. It pleases her to conduct her affairs in front of her admiring public, and precludes my carrying her down the steep steps to the back yard, which is a place suitable for the Labradors, who are commoners. Lucy took care of her business with a painstaking air and waddled back to the door. I waddled behind her. We’re built kind of alike, Lucy and I, except she shaves her legs more often than I do and gets to sleep in every morning.
Inside, she always steps just onto the Karastan and waits for her treat, to create maximum carnage with crumb scattering. When I take care of my business, I get a line of angry people waiting in line and banging on the bathroom door. When she does her thing, she gets the doggie equivalent of a caviar-coated truffle on my one good rug.
I heard a loud buzzing by my ear.
Here is where my prejudices come into play. Nothing with more or less legs than I have and has not yet incurred a vet bill or required homeschooling is welcome in my house.
This description covers everything from snakes to squids to seventeen-year-olds who live next door and seem to be all feet, and in their natural habitat they are an essential part of the earth’s perfect ecosystem. In my house, they’re vermin, critters, creatures, and *monsters with fangs dripping blood (*see teenagers).
I tried to comfort myself with the thought that it might be a friendly hummingbird or a spiraling B52 about to crash land on the coffee table.
I heard the buzz again, right by my ear. I don’t think this is what people mean when they say they’ve got a buzz on.
I’m proud to say I remained calm. I carefully deposited the intruder in the bathroom and eased the door closed.
When the police finally left, I chastised the neighbors for bothering our law enforcement friends with such petty matters, and vowed to pay the Disturbing the Peace fine before rumors could spread.
In the meantime, the bathroom door is staying closed and I’m blasting Flight of the Bumblebee on the CD player until the Captain gets home.
And if he says, “Buzz Off,” he’s sleeping outside.