I know that Monday follows Sunday. I know it in theory and went to bed at a respectable hour last night in anticipation of waking up early for work. What I did not anticipate was the degree to which my back was sunburnt and a tiny (but incredibly loud) visitor in my office all day. The combination of those two things would make for a strange start to the week.
This morning when I attempted to get dressed (nope, no shower) I realized that wearing a bra on my charred back would literally kill me. I’m not one of those girls who can just flounce around with a cute halter and nobody would be the wiser. I have breasts. Big, jiggly breasts that need to be contained. They’re not big in the “bouncy trampoline girl” sense but more a scary, floppy way. Needless to say, a bra is necessary even inside my own home. Today, however, I had no choice. I had to go outside sans boulder holder. I chose to wear a black cami underneath my oversized off-the-shoulder t-shirt and threw on a giant summer-scarf to try to camouflage the fact that my ladies were hanging out somewhere a few inches south of where they generally live. Between the hunched shoulders and the constant readjusting of the flowy scarf, I think I may have gotten away with it. What I didn’t get away with was the skin on skin contact that doesn’t happen with the support I’m used to. It’s weird. I don’t like it and I’m sure you don’t like reading about it. But now we’re even. Swunderboob. That’s what’s happening, in case you got lost somewhere in this last paragraph. Swunderboob.
I know what you’re thinking at this point, “was the tiny visitor a kitten that followed you around all day in search of a meal, a la South Park”? No. No it wasn’t. But that was a good guess. It was a cricket. An incredibly opinionated and incredibly rude cricket.
This cricket greeted me as I walked in with a few gentle chirps and a deceiving silent period. Then, when I least expected it, it came out from its hiding place and proudly bellowed with its hind legs (or however crickets make noise…I’m not a scientist). I realized then that this creature had taken up residence inside my office and wasn’t on the other side of the wall like I had first suspected. It sat there, two feet from my desk just glaring at me and chirping at the top of its lungs. I’m not a monster (and it wasn’t a spider) so I thought I would simply catch the little guy and gently place him outside. Wrong. Every time I got near him he waltzed back into the crack from whence he came. He didn’t even have the decency to hurry or pretend as if he was scared by me. He just smirked smugly and sauntered, only to return again once I had settled back into my chair. To put it simply, this cricket was a jerk. This scenario played out at least five more times throughout the day until I threw up my hands in exasperated defeat. Not knowing what else to do, I put a paper cup over the crack. I haven’t seen him since. My guess is that he thinks it’s night time and that there isn’t anyone to annoy. Stupid jerk.
So, floppy boobs and rogue crickets have taken over my office today. I’m looking forward to getting back into the privacy of my own apartment so that I may flop in peace. First, I have to go to the grocery store. I’ll make sure to avoid the frozen foods aisle.