So, I'm late to work this morning. Ho-hum... late, late, late. Gotta dry my hair! And straighten it! And pack my things to head to my parent's house! And pet Chicken! And stand in front of the air-conditioner because I'm hot! And! And! And pet Chicken again!
This is how it goes.
And, of course, by the time I actually get out the door, I'm sweating, which TOTALLY defeats the purpose of even getting ready. Insert "ugh" here.
However, I opened the door this morning, laundry basket in my arms (hi, mom!), keys in my mouth, hand on the door knob, and BAM.
OH. HELL NAW. (That is my new favorite phrase by the way. Oh, hell naw! You, too? Yes?)
Anyway. Hell naw.
There was a cicada on the balcony. A CICADA.
In case you don't recall, I do not do cicadas.
And really, does anyone do cicadas? Because those mofos are fierce. And GIANT. And they leer. LEER.
So here's this mofo cicada just, like, hanging out outside my front door.
"Heeeey, what's up. I'm a cicada, hiiii. Just, you know, hangin' out."
WHAT THE HELL?
I actually said, "Oh, hell no," out loud. I didn't even do the "naw" that time. This was serious. And in my head all I could think about was stepping on it. Now, I did not actually WANT to step on it, but what if I did?? Can you imagine the sickening crunch? OMG. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.
But he was, like, in my way. WHY ARE YOU HERE, CICADA? Why? He knows I hate him. He was probably hanging out there all night long, just waiting. Waiting for me to be late to work, waiting for me to run into him. I bet he's a third cousin of the laundromat beetle. This is my karma.
And, really, it wasn't as dramatic as it sounds. All I did was squirm in my pants, and dodge the sucker (and run like hell in the opposite direction). But what if he's still there when I get back? What if he finds a crevice in my dilapidated doorway and gets INSIDE.
Why, bugs? Why do you do this to me?