Poor June-Bug (wow, Gen hasn't been called that in ages! That was my mom's pet name for the little rascal.)
Oh, wait. First a story, while we're on the topic of June bugs. Months ago, Richard rented a movie for date night. It was about a girl and a boy and his best friend, and they all go skiing. Romantic, right? Well, it was until the boyfriend got eaten by a pack of wolves, and then his friend slides off to the rescue and he gets eaten by a pack of wolves. Anyway, since that date night I've been scared of going outside by myself after dark. You know, in case a wolf eats me.
Last night, with Rich gone to Memramcook to work, I realized at 10:30 pm that I forgot to lock the chicken coop. Next to being eaten by a wolf, having the chickens eaten by a fox or coon or skunk is a pretty real possibility. I put on my big girl panties and my gum rubbers and left the safety of the house to go take care of the chickens. My muscles were tense and my eyes scanned the lawn for any signs of carnivores. And then! Then, I was viciously attacked by a June bug! It whammed into my head, got it's sticky legs caught in my hair and met it's death in a flurry of screaming and hands batting. Now I need to add one more thing to my irrational fears.
Anyway, poor Gen. She's sick. I'm sick. We're all going to get sick.
But at least we're not going to be eaten by wolves. As long as we stay inside. Where it's safe.
