OK

So, I went on vacation.

Then I got sick and got better.

Then I was not so much interested in "packing" anymore.

But now, I think things are about get crazy and winter coats are about to fly into boxes at rates previously unknown. No scarf unturned, no silver bowl unpacked. Today was the defining moment I needed to give me all the motivation I'll need.

After showering this morning (and to be honest, it was late morning... OK, really it was after lunch, but I'm a student and a writer and it is my house. I'll shower when I feel like showering, thank you very much), I wrapped up in three towels and sat on the far end of my sofa. I may have been reading emails and checking faceboook. Like I said, my house.

I'm sitting there, all wrapped up, typing away, and suddenly I'm having an out of body experience. I'm floating somewhere above myself watching a miniature lobster with giant claws scurry across my left forearm and sashay across my keyboard. The miniature lobster looks particularly menacing against my white Mac keypad. It is so segmented. And wiggly. I get it together long enough to smoosh him until he oozes, and start to breathe again.

First the screaming. Then the questions. Where the fuck (and truly I can think of no other word here) did he come from? Do I have earwigs living in my hair? In my clean towels? In my shampoo? The sofa? How soon can we get out of here?

I don't like it when there is an earwig on the floor in the kitchen by the baseboards. I don't like it when one crawls on the wall by the bedroom door. I don't like them in the bathtub or even outside on the recycling bin. It is a whole other thing with the earwig is up on my body. Oh my. Eww. I can't even type this with my eyes open. I'm too busy shuddering.

So. Over. Earwigs.

Husband and I are killing two or three a day, minimum. I don't know where they are coming from, where they are hiding, or what the odds are that they'll follow us when we move. I love my charming, ancient house. But it is time to get up and out of here. Now. Eww.