Perhaps by now you are familiar with my routine. I spend the late afternoon/evening hours in my dark basement lair, which I now leave lighted, though two of the four overhead lights are currently out. I peruse the innernets, check up on my blogs, inform myself of the newest conspiracy theories, eat my lunch at my New Delly, and usually supper, since Farmer H is always popping out to an auction and grabs his as the time suits him.
I sip on my 44 oz Diet Coke throughout the afternoon and night. I add Cherry Limeade sugar-free powder mix to it, and extra ice, and freshen it with a bottle of Diet Coke (the hard stuff) as it weakens. I keep a baggie of frozen ice cubes in the basement mini fridge to apply to my knees. It has been melted and refrozen many times, and still hasn't sprung a leak in its double baggie.
Sometimes I know it's time to put away the knee ice when I feel it slipping down in the fold I've made by flipping my striped sweatpants leg into a long cuff. Sometimes I know because my knee starts hurting from the cold. Other times it comes at a logical cut-off point when I get up to go to the NASCAR bathroom next door to my office.
Sometimes, I just KNOW that my knee ice has sprung a leak. I can feel the trickle of melted water (which I guess is actually melted ice, having turned into water) down my shin. Imagine my surprise when I reach down, and find my soft cotton sweats dry as a bone that's been laying around Sweet, Sweet Juno's house for a year or two. I guess I feel the phantom trickles.
Today, I was typing away at my not-so-secret blog, about CasinoPalooza 3. I felt that feeling on my leg, but since I wasn't wearing my knee ice, having laid off from driveway-walking in this frigid cold snap, and not feeling as much pain in that joint. I thought something along the lines of, "Aha! You can't fool ME! I know I'm not wearing my knee ice. It can't be melting." I went on typing, my phantom drip out of my mind.
An hour or so later, I felt that drip again, so I reached down, and
FELT SOMETHING UNDER THE FABRIC OF MY PANTS LEG!
ACK! NO, NO, NO, JUST NO!
It was a CRICKET!!!
Yes! A live cricket! Having apparently been sitting on my shin for about an hour or so! Just sitting there! A CRICKET! On my LEG! With its little cricket hands and feet (SIX OF THEM, I know my insect morphology!) grasping the stubs of my leg hairs that might not be so very stubby, here in the deep dark days of winter!
Have I mentioned that I hate crickets? Almost as much as I hate feet! And now I had cricket feet on my bare skin! For about an hour or so!
I couldn't smash that cricket! It would leave cricket guts on my bare skin, and in my sweatpants leg! I felt it start scrambling when I touched it. So I shook my pants leg, and looked down in horror to see that cricket fall out! It was a big husky specimen. I couldn't stomp it. My shoes were off. Red run-down Crocs abandoned further under my desk. Besides, blog buddy River says crickets in the house are good luck!
In spite of losing my shirt and half my wardrobe at CasinoPalooza 3, and being sick these last six days, I really consider myself pretty lucky. So I let that cricket be.
It was horrifying.