"Now, the reason they do that, we think, is because poop stinks."

I think a lot of people resist listening to NPR because they think it's inaccessible or too liberal or, well, boring. And yeah, sometimes, if I try to listen to it on the way to work, I nod off a little bit but WHATEVER maybe I shouldn't listen to quiet-talking when I'm driving if I haven't had any coffee yet. 

Anyway. I feel sorry for the people who resist NPR because they think it's boring. Because, duh, it's not. You can tell me it is, but you'd be wrong, and I can prove it. 

The other day, I was in the car, listening to Excursions and they took a break from the music to talk about SCIENCE. Science is hardly ever boring, you guys. Science is messy and disgusting and AWESOME. For instance, I give you THIS. I highly recommend you listen to the audio.

In case you're thinking about not clicking that link, I'll give you a SPOILER. It's about caterpillars who can shoot poop out of their butts, sort of like a poop cannon. 

Poop! Out of their butts! COME ON. 

I do da cha cha like a sissy girl. I like-a...do da cha cha.

Yesterday I went sort of crazy with cleaning the apartment. It was totally unintentional, too. I meant to do NOTHING yesterday. Absolutely nothing. It started out well enough. I got up relatively early, made some coffee, ate some breakfast, finished my book, and then BOOM...The Crazy kicked in.

Only not really. Really, I was just going to wash my sheets and change my bed. Easy. But once I'd stripped the bed and thrown the dirty sheets in the washer, I was out of control. I was running all over the apartment, downstairs to get the Windex, upstairs to clean my bathroom, downstairs to get the vacuum, upstairs to clean the litter box, and then suddenly I was trying my best not to fall down the stairs while I vacuumed them because did you know? Our vacuum is surprisingly heavy. And, you know, once I'd finished cleaning upstairs and vacuuming down the stairs, I figured I might as well clean the kitchen floor and take out all the trash and vacuum the downstairs and SWEEP THE PORCH. WTF? Sweep the porch? It did no good. It's just as dirty this morning as it was before I swept it, but right after? It was a thing of beauty.

Anyway, I blame this obsessive bout of cleaning on the psychological trauma I suffered Saturday night. I was sitting on the sofa, talking to Joe on the phone, when I noticed a creepy bug crawling on the wall next to me. I thought about killing it, but it was the same kind of creepy bug that attacked Heidi and I that one time and I didn't want to risk it.

SO! There I am, sitting on the sofa, watching the bug and watching PHOEBE watch the bug, and giving Joe a play-by-play (he's so lucky). I was all, "it's crawling higher...Phoebe thinks she can reach it, but she can't...now it's trying to crawl on the ceiling...now it's on the ceiling...OH MY GOD IT JUST FELL OFF THE CEILING ON THE COUCH RIGHT NEXT TO ME OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD," and this is when I ran to the bathroom to get some toilet paper to KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT but you guys! IT CRAWLED INTO THE SOFA! IN BETWEEN THE CUSHIONS! And I kept freaking out and Joe was telling me to calm down and I was yelling at home for being in San Diego and not protecting me from the KILLER BUG THAT WAS TRYING TO KILL ME, KILL ME DEAD! And then I told him I was never, ever sitting on that couch again and he laughed at me but GUESS WHAT, I did not sit on that sofa at all yesterday SO THERE.

And then Joe was not sympathetic AT ALL about my brush with death. I believe his exact words were, "I cannot believe that you, a grown woman, just had a massive meltdown because of a tiny bug," and I was all, "whatever, you didn't see it, IT WAS HUGE AND HAD FANGS!" and then he didn't believe me when I told him it was two inches long, like bugs in Ohio can't be that big or something. But they can be that big because I saw one and it crawled into the couch and again I say SO THERE.

and this other time, a cicada flew right into my forehead while I was running

This morning I was attacked by a cicada. Yeah. I KNOW. Sure, mostly it just sat there on the ground and buzzed my feet as I walked by, but an attack is an attack. AND THEN I emailed Heidi at work to tell her about it and it turns out the very same cicada attacked her, too! I don't know why this cicada tried to kill both of us. Maybe he was friends with the baby raccoons. Who knows? But someone should have informed him that Heidi called the apartment complex people, not me. Heh.

AND THEN I got in my car to drive to work, because when I try to drive to work without my car, nothing happens. So there I was, wiping leftover sleep from my eyes, and that's when I saw it! A big, fat cicada stuck in my windshield wipers. I thought about turning them on, but I didn't want smooshed cicada guts all over my windshield. That's just not the way I like to start my day, you know? And anyway, right after I thought about smooshing him, he moved! And, while I find these creatures odd and try to avoid them whenever possible (sorry, Kat), I wasn't about to kill an innocent bug just because he got stuck on my car. On the other hand, I wasn't going to get out of my car and flick him off the windshield. Not because I was afraid to touch him, I just didn't feel like getting out of the car. Do you realize how much motivation it takes to get IN the car when I know the car's taking me to work? Yeah.

Since the cicada was alive, I had to give him a name. So Jeff and I drove to work and the whole time I kept thinking, "hang on, little guy, we're almost there!" and you know what? He did hang on. He hung on for the entire ride. I think he actually liked it. I didn't get a change to ask him, because I was running late, but if he's still there after work, I'll ask him and let you guys know.