I think the ability to laugh at yourself is one of the ten greatest talents in the world. Trust me, we’re all ridiculous from time to time. Recognizing your ridiculous-ness is a key to total acceptance.
I accept myself madly.
I’m currently in the middle of The Great Gnat War of 2016. It’s gotten to be funny. I have gnats and I don’t know why.
I’ve done oodles of research, but I don’t know why they’ve chosen to visit me. Unfortunately, I now know more about gnats than I ever wanted to know.
I’ve had a total inspection of my house, including the A/C drainage system to ensure they aren’t taking up residence here.
I take out the trash every day.
I wash my recycles in soap and water. Trust me, I probably have the cleanest recycled garbage in San Antonio. I’ve even washed paper plates. Hello?
I’ve taken to cleaning the drains every few days with baking soda and vinegar. Think of me as a gigantic volcano experiment, complete with foaming drains.
I stopper all the drains if I’m not using them.
I put any fruit I bring into the house in separate plastic bags and refrigerate them.
I do the dishes the minute they are dirty. I dry them and put them up in the cupboard. There’s never anything in the sink.
I clean the yard every day of Flash’s prezzies. I double bag everything and take it outside to the garbage.
I spray the yard every three days with Simple Green stuff to control odor and eliminate bugs.
I leave out little dishes of apple cider vinegar and a few drops of dishwashing detergent on the window sills in case the little b**tards think they’re going to come in that way.
I’ve gotten rid of my sisal welcome mat for a rubber one, just in case the sisal attracted bugs.
I’ve gotten rid of all the indoor plants. The only ones I have now are silk.
But I still hear the zap of the indoor bug zapper occasionally. Not often, but even once is enough to set me off. When I hear the bug zapper that, in turn, initiates a round of swearing that would embarrass a sailor.
I’m almost certain my neighbors have heard me yelling. It’s almost poetically profane. The house next door is now for sale. Is there a connection?
It’s gotten to the point that when I see one of the little monsters, I scream and go after the damn thing. I’m sure, in Gnat Land, that they tell tales among themselves about the crazy woman in Ranneyville.
“Don’t go there unless you’re trying to prove something. She’s one weird duck, I tell you.”
And, with apologies to Winston Churchill:
I shall go on to the end.
I shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air.
I shall defend my island, whatever the cost may be,
I shall fight in the backyard.
I shall fight in the front yard and in the street.
I shall fight in the kitchen, in the bathroom, and in every place where a gnat might linger.
I shall never surrender.
How about you? Is there anything you do that might be construed as, well, odd?