And One More Time...This Time With Feelers!!!

So, I woke up this morning feeling like a semi-truck had run me over or as the roomie would say, "Feeling like a bag of smashed assholes," which was a little bizarre as a I had an unbelievably uber mellow evening last night that involved dinner at friend's house (AMAZING homemade tortilla soup BTW) and then going to see 21 at the theater (also FANTASTIC---love, love, love the guy from Across the Universe and my 401 K retirement plan is so out the window and being cashed in to support my new career of counting cards in Vegas now…aside from my distaste for math and only knowing one calculation—I can calculate 30% off of any number in about 15 seconds as it was the amount of my employee discount when I worked retail—I'm sure it's a full-proof plan).

So back to last night, Let me reiterate—super, super mellow. In light of the great Margarita race on Friday that evolved into the great Margarita recovery on Saturday, by Sunday night we're talking so mellow that I had clothes laid out for my big client meeting the next morning, briefcase packed, google driving directions printed, teeth brushed, face washed—tucked in bed with the lights out by 10:30pm, so why oh why do I feel like the semi-truck may have also backed up over me while making a 3-point turn?

Now, I'm not a good sleeper by any means—even as an adult I still frequently have night terrors—so I can't really say that the term a "good night" of sleep really means that much too me. Heck, to me a "good night" sleep means not waking up in a cold sweat, wondering what is chasing me and how the hell I'm going to untangle myself from the sheets (that is if I haven't woken myself with my own snoring yet—yes, hot, very hot I know…it's totally sleep apinia which is deadly—so no laughing, seriously I could die and then you'd feel like ass…). But this morning felt different, with night terrors, the details are gone the second I wake up and I just feel exhausted and sometimes kind of achey (like a running the length of a marathon away from giant hairy monsters kind of achey).

So, I'll recap the details for you:
1. I was woken up by the roomie at precisely 1:36 AM
2. It took like forever (or at least like 4 minutes) to locate my glasses, so I was extremely agitated and discombobulated
3. The roomie was shrieking "pinchers, legs, feelers, HUGE, long" (yes, shrieking exactly like a girl) and armed with a roll of toilet paper, and a roll of paper towels he kept rolling the bottom of his jeans up higher and higher and leaping in and out of the bathtub adding, "he's REALLY, REALLY fast" and "did ya see it, did ya see it"
4. EVERY God DAMNED light in the house was ON
5. A box of soap was involved
6. Did I mention that it was 1:36 AM when this all started?

And now it gets weirder. I go into the bathroom to get ready for my meeting and notice the shower curtain is half off the rod and tucked behind the towel rack, the bathroom rug is rolled up against the wall, there is a roll of paper towels and a variety of different sized Tupperware containers on the floor—WTF?!? Now the roomie is by no means OCD or one to put things away—but this is definitely one of the more bizarre messes he's left, EVER. I genuinely DO NOT want to know why there was a need for that much paper towel or Tupperware in the bathroom between last night and this morning. I'm a curious person and after seeing my fair share of Law and Order (that's L&O to all the REAL fans out there), I'm a decent puzzle solver—but NOT when it involves the bathroom.

OK—so still getting weirder. I drag myself into the kitchen at 6:30 to make coffee and on the counter is an empty card board box from a bar of Zest soap—corked with about 17 papertowels? WTF?!?!

Now, I'm actually a little worried because:
A. I can remember my night terrors
B. I can possibly add sleep walking to my sleep issues AND
C. Add the acting out of night terrors to the list too

I go to my client meeting feeling completely disturbed. When I get home this afternoon I start to pile up the recycling while I'm waiting for the oven to heat up and make lunch:

KA: "Soap box on the counter?"

Roomie: "OH MY GOD YOU DIDN'T THROW IT OUT DID YOU?!? DID YOU? IT'S THE BIGGEST BUG I'VE EVER SEEN---I'M SAVING IT TO HAVE IT IDENTIFIED!!!!! DON'T THROW IT OUT, DON'T THROW IT OUT."

KA: "So, there was a bug last night?"

Roomie: "Yeah, I woke you up to show it to you, it was in the bathroom walking along the edge of the tub, it had HUGE pinchers and REALLY long feelers and it was SOOOO fast. Didn't you see it?"

KA: "So…was this around 1:36 AM by chance?"

Roomie: "YEAH"

KA: "AHA! That's why I feel like a bag of smashed assholes. Was I up? Was I talking and coherent?"

Roomie: "Seemed like you were, but you weren't even that impressed with the bug and it was HUGE…."

KA: "Yeah with pinchers and long legs, I heard…"

Roomie: "We still have the bug right…?"

KA: "Yes, yes it's entombed on the kitchen counter in an Zest soap box."

Not sure if I'm relieved or pissed at this point in time. This bug must be amazing, time to examine. I pull out the wads of paper towel and there smooshed in the middle is a typical household centipede that is MAYBE 2 inches long—with like 2 inch antennae feeler things—so not impressed.

KA: "You woke me up for a fuckin' centipede."

Roomie: "No, it's not a centipede—it has feelers—LOOK! I was going to the bathroom and it crawled out from behind the toilet---RIGHT BETWEEN MY FEET, it was so scary—it has feelers!"

KA: "Yeah, that's what centipedes have, you woke me up at 1:36 AM!!!"

Roomie: "It's not JUST A centipede"

KA: "Yeah I know it has 'feelers'…"

Now I'm from Arizona—so when it comes to freaky bugs and poisonous creatures, my theory is: "If doesn't live in Australia—it lives in Arizona," so it's gonna take a seriously creepy creature (or snake, onion, open water or a clown) to scare me, whereas the roommate hyperventilates if you even say "Miller Moth." I'm making no headway trying to explain that while completely sci-fi looking, they are really common and even with 2" feelers—this one isn't that big. The roomie is from WAAAY upstate NY, so I even try to the analogy, "It'd be like waking up someone at your house to point out a deer in the forest…or a pine cone."

AHA we are getting somewhere, but the doubt is still obvious.

I google, "Centipede with Pinchers," and up pops www.whatsthatbug.com (google is so my homey). A fantastic site where you can email in pictures of bugs you find around the house and an entomologist identifies them for you.

Let's just say that 93% of the entries on the main page – start off with "Holy crap I sat down to study and this came out of the book/rug/chair cushion and it has pinchers…REALLY big PINCHERS" and then proceeds to display a picture just of a centipede (just like the one in our Zest soap box on the kitchen counter) and the entomologist responds with the "Household Centipede" identification.

But the issue isn't quite settled yet. Yes, it's just a household centipede—but they just live on cockroaches, bed bugs and other bugs…so this only means more to come…

The Grapefruit of Wrath

I'm STILL home in AZ, but I can't really complain. I'm able to work remotely here in the amazing 60+ degree weather. I hike everyday. And my only other responsibility (which is self mandated) is that I've been grocery shopping and cooking dinner every night for my mom. It's actually been quite enjoyable. I've learned that while interacting and bonding with the Snowbirds when out hiking and grocery shopping on mid-week mornings while everyone else is tied to a desk—that I will make a kick ass retired person.

When working remotely—you inherently get your work done faster. It's not as easy to procrastinate by puttering around someone else's house. Quite frankly it'd be a little weird—especially since these aren't my drawers to needlessly sort through—although I am guilty of "accidentally" removing all of the god awful, high-waisted Mom Jean's from my mom's closet. I keep telling her that Clinton and Stacy told me to do it and that she will one day not only forgive me, but thank me.

So, I've been looking for ways to fill my days. Hence the new interest in hiking and rejuvenated interest in knitting and maybe blogging… Yesterday I decided I would do my mom a favor and pick all the grapefruit from the trees in her backyard. I know it's one of her least favorite things to do (god damned thorns) and heck, I have time. Plenty of time.

I picked and bagged over 200 grapefruit, and was pierced by the evil trees 14 times. There are still 100 grapefruit on the trees that I couldn't even dream of reaching—so we'll let those become someone else's problem.

Now, there is no way that 2 people can even attempt to eat 200+ grapefruit and not develop some sort of health condition. In honor of all the New Year's Resolutions being set, I was inspired to Google the Grapefruit Diet—and yeah, that's clearly a no go.

My mom lives in a quaint little community on a golf course, that is 50% retirees and 30% young families and 10% families in the process of building a new house and renting from one of the retirees that didn't make it out here this season. All of the mailboxes in the neighborhood are grouped together and it gives it a creepy Wisteria Lane quality. More research on this will follow, but I have learned that every time I venture out to get the mail that I can see movement behind the neighbors' curtains and shutters and I'm greeted by at least two of them that just happened to "pop" out to get the mail and then barrage me with at least 15 minutes of chit chat. Alas this is where the kernals of neighborhood gossip begin! So, mom thought it would be nice to put the bags of grapefruit out on top of the community mailboxes for all the neighbors. Brilliant idea I thought.

So, yesterday I dropped approximately 180 grapefruit off at the community boxes. Today when I left for my run I noticed that ALL of the bags were gone. So I figured:
A. The Neighbors actually took them
B. We violated some neighborhood HOA code and some ninny removed them
C. Maybe the mailman or workers in the 'hood picked them up

Either way – grapefruit: dealt with.

Then about a mile down the road I began to notice an excess of grapefruit skin along the golf cart path…hmmm, now everyone here has tons of citrus trees in their yards so it's not uncommon to see a random peel or mutilated orange here and there—but what I noticed was a suspiciously ri-donkulous amount of grapefruit. I rounded the bend that leads to an underpass for the golf carts and I stopped dead in my tracks.

In front of me were 4 saguaros (yes, the tall cacti in the roadrunner cartoons that look like a penis with arms) and they had been completely assaulted!! Used and abused for target practice by the neighborhood 'tweens. Apparently our neighborly gesture actually just was not so benign—we provided the ammo for the Grapefruits of Wrath…