and they are universally conspiring against me. I have had 3 buggy related incidents in the past week (alright i admit, one was a gecko..), and i'm not handling it all that well thankyou very much..
I was minding my own business, cleaning the playroom when i notice an enormous grasshopper HANGING from the blind!! It was very still, and very dead looking. I summoned up the courage to go and remove it, very gently, (don't want to break off a leg or anything), and it suddenly came alive and landed on ME! Much screaming and jumping was done, and much hysterical laughing from Lucy. I was a shaky quivery mess for a good half hour and refused to step foot in that playroom again for the rest of the day. (I still don't know where it went).
Fast forward to the next evening, and again, I'm minding my own business, laying in my bed trying to get to sleep when i feel something move. On my arm. Which is in my bed. (do you sense I'm not OK with this!?) I grabbed my mobile to light up my arm and saw the most massive cricket that ever did ?walk? the planet, heading up my arm to my face. I flicked it across the room, and dumped some washing on top. Clean washing. Next morning, all memories of the nasty cricket gone from my head, i pick up a shirt and put it on. "wait, something doesn't feel right, its scratchy...what the hell is that...*lift up bottom of shirt* HOLY CRAP ARGHHHHHH!!!!. And more laughing from Lucy.......
By this point in time, I'm CONVINCED the buggy kingdom has my poster up in its villages saying "attack this person for crimes against bugs (I've been known to dislike them prior to my nightmare week..)
THEN THE GECKO ATTACKED ME. I swear to God, it lunged at me, off the kitchen bench and went right down the front of my shirt.. where it.. got its TAIL. STUCK. IN. MY. BRA. Picture it if you dare. Me dancing around the kitchen screaming, one very unhappy gecko writhing about in my cleavage trying to get its tail free, and Matt calling in a very bored voice from the lounge "what now?!" Eventually it freed its self, i danced around trying not to step on it, still flapping my shirt around somewhere in the vicinity of my eyeballs while the neighbours tried to decide if I was in fact insane.
I rest my case. Bugs hate me.