So here I am clutching two ticks wrapped in a tissue, and I don't know what to do. I'm not dressed respectably enough to leave the bedroom, since I've just got out of bed.
I can't think how I can put more clothes on without risk. If I put the tissue down, the ticks will fight their way out and escape into the bedroom. And then they might go anywhere they like. I could pull on some clothes with one hand, but I need to give those ticks my full attention.
That's why I'm pacing up and down.
Soon I will be rescued, when Allan gets out of the shower. He will take the tissue-wrapped ticks to Colin in his office. Colin will look at the ticks and remark that they are very small. He will also remark that it is lucky for me that they are whole, as I am less likely to be infected by broken tick parts left behind. He will then proceed to kill them by stabbing at them with a biro.
At the time I felt this was a happy outcome. But having reached a state of equanimity I am beginning to feel sorry for the ticks. Tomorrow I will make it up to them.
Showing posts with label shower. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shower. Show all posts
Friday, October 22, 2010
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Bee Memory 2
And that's not my only bee memory. I have a bee memory for each of my children. Here is the second.
It was about 10 years ago. We were living in a house with a beautiful garden. Every day I would hang the bathroom towels out to dry in the sun.
One morning Sean came down the stairs with a stricken look. I've been stung by a bee! he said. In the bathroom! It was on my towel!
I felt guilty because I had brought the bee in on the towel.
Or possibly, we were living in the house with the swimming pool. Or this house, with the apricot tree. He didn't come down the stairs then, because there were/are no stairs. But he had a stricken look, and was holding a towel. I just got stung by a bee! he said. In the bathroom!
I felt guilty because I had brought the bee in on the towel.
Or it's even possible, now I think about it, that the bee wasn't on the towel at all. The bee was inside the tee shirt that he had put on after his shower. And he said, I just got stung by a bee! It was inside my tee shirt!
And I felt guilty, because it still would have been me that brought the bee in, on the tee shirt.
It was about 10 years ago. We were living in a house with a beautiful garden. Every day I would hang the bathroom towels out to dry in the sun.
One morning Sean came down the stairs with a stricken look. I've been stung by a bee! he said. In the bathroom! It was on my towel!
I felt guilty because I had brought the bee in on the towel.
Or possibly, we were living in the house with the swimming pool. Or this house, with the apricot tree. He didn't come down the stairs then, because there were/are no stairs. But he had a stricken look, and was holding a towel. I just got stung by a bee! he said. In the bathroom!
I felt guilty because I had brought the bee in on the towel.
Or it's even possible, now I think about it, that the bee wasn't on the towel at all. The bee was inside the tee shirt that he had put on after his shower. And he said, I just got stung by a bee! It was inside my tee shirt!
And I felt guilty, because it still would have been me that brought the bee in, on the tee shirt.
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