A few things.
Tomorrow is my birthday. I am
slightly underwhelmed by this, as I will spend the bulk of the day driving, and
because I am turning 32, which is an age full of sound and fury, signifying
nothing. Or really, just another year gone by.
I kind of have a thing for
Australian accents.
I am almost finished with a
knitted tank top (light, cotton yarn). And if I can get it done tonight (and I
should be able to, as I just need to stitch the seams together and do the
finishing on the edges) it will be the first non-hat, non-scarf thing that I’ve
done. Minus those two pairs of fingerless gloves, but those are the same
general idea as hats and scarves. It’s interesting to move into more complex
knitted stuff. Although, I have recently been compared to someone’s grandmother
for knitting, resulting in the necessity of providing a link to Knitty.com to
prove that not all knitted goods are Weaslyesque monogrammed sweaters. So no,
you won’t be calling me Nana Tassie, thankyouverymuch.
Finally, the point of the title.
Because I’ve been talking about gross things around my house, like the sheer
mass and volume of my dirty laundry and the grossness that is the rinse water
in my washer, I thought I’d throw another story out for you. Although this one,
as the title predicts, is NOT my fault.
I’ve spent a good part of the
summer traveling. You know, because I’m unemployed and broke, and thus should
be gone as much as possible. And when I have been home, it’s been hot as blazes
in Baltimore AND since I’m broke I don’t go out much. So in my house with the
air conditioning is where I spend my time.
Two weeks ago, when I got home
from Chicago, the city decided it would cool down enough to open windows and
allow some fresh city air into my home. Since I live in a rowhouse, there are
windows in the front and back of the house, but clearly none on the sides,
since that would be weird, and I’d be looking into my neighbors house (but much
easier for borrowing a cup of sugar).
I opened the back blinds and the
windows, and nothing was amiss. I opened one set of blinds and the window next
to my front door, and all was normal.
I opened the other blinds and
window in my living room. The window that is perhaps three feet from where I
sit and contentedly type away on my lappy, watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and
read books. Where I am comfortable and happy and unaware of the problems going
on outside. I opened the window.
And was faced with a virtual
holocaust of dead baby june bugs. Which had gotten stuck between the screen and the window. Meaning, had the window been
open, there would have been a fucking swarm
of june bugs in my house. And. Z.O.M.G. FUCK NO. YUCK. EW. NO.
I am not scared of june bugs.
But, ewwww. I’m pretty sure they swarmed there because the window is also close
to the lamp in my living room, and thus the light emanating from the blinds at
night would have attracted them. I say this specifically because this was the
only window where there was the June Bug Apocalypse.
And although I am not a fan of
cleaning, I did pop the screen out and move the carcasses of the slain back out
to the field of battle, rather than IN MY HOUSE. YUCK.
(Also, because nothing can be
easy for me, my truck died in front of my house a few weeks ago. Dead battery,
and I just got around to jump starting it, as I’m supposed to leave tomorrow
for Ohio. And wouldn’t you know, the fucking cable for the hood? Is broken or
something, and thus the hood will only kind of close, but not really. CAN I
CATCH A FUCKING BREAK HERE, PEOPLE?! PLEASE AND THANKS.)
