Last week I went around telling people that early Spring is by far the Absolute Best Time of Year. My decision was based on multiple factors; the air, for one, is so fresh and filled with the scent of blooming forsythia that I would stand out in the sun, taking long, intoxicating breaths from 7 in the morning until 7 at night if life would just let me.
Another plus is the not-too-cold-but-not-too-hot temperature that lets me make all my own clothing related decisions for once. Am I feeling self-conscious today? Do I want to cover myself up with a bulky sweater? I can do that. Or, maybe I want to wear that cute little v-neck with the short puffy sleeves? I can do that, too! Options, people, they're very important to me, because I live life on an emotional whim.
But the number one reason I gave for loving early Spring? It was because the bugs are at a minimum. To know me is to know that I shiver at the sight of a fruit fly and I run in the opposite direct of anything that buzzes, and last week I didn't have to run from anything. I thought, this is my time of year, because the air smells marvelous, the sun is warm on my bare skin, and I don't have to be on constant watch for something that is going to sting me. I deserve to be outside, and the bugs aren't going to convince me otherwise!
Of course, that was before a spider fell in my lap on the way into work Friday morning, and before I was held captive in my own home by an army of vigilante bumble bees on Saturday. And on Sunday, after spotting the return of the monster moths that are attracted to the bright porch light, I finally remembered what this time of year really is; this is the time year when every scream is followed by my husband cocking his head to the side and telling me in his condescending tone, "Grow up. If you didn't like bugs you shouldn't have picked a house in the woods."
Yep, he's got my number, and just for the fun of it, when he gets home from work, I'm going to introduce him to Coco:
It took an unbelieveable amount of courage to get this photo but I figured what are the chances that I would be writing a blog in which I'm complaining about insects, when I discover something like this? Although, I don't know if Coco should be considered an insect...I think she's more like a small dog.