Sometimes I get the feeling Marshall wishes he was somewhere else.
Don't ask me why...
Maybe it has something to do with the fact he escaped from his habitat today, the one he was sharing with the scarabs...which wouldn't be such a big deal except I forgot to let you in on the excitement of Captain Haddock escaping his habitat last week.
Did I really just use the word excitement in conjunction with a runaway beetle?
Well, what would you call it when your youngest daughter approaches looking so traumatized you wonder if she finally saw the state of her bedroom through rational eyes...only to be informed that no, it's because her beetle is missing and all fingers point to your own negligence?!
And though you scour the house it is to no avail, and when your husband calls to ask why can't you just find a replacement beetle out in the desert, you have to stare him down over the phone? Then later on in the day, when your middle daughter reaches into her music bag to retrieve a concerto, her hand comes into contact with what she thinks is a tarantula, even though there has never been a tarantula on the premises, ever?
Consider the ensuing noise and how many dogs had to lose their hearing as a result? And now you can't stop twitching yet the heavens have opened and, lo, there is the beetle, only your youngest daughter is all but certain he has a dent on his shell that wasn't there before??
Dear reader, in case you're worried my life has devolved alarmingly, as evidenced by this recent spate of insect posts...believe me, I could regale you with quite the range of anecdotes.
Quite the range.
Would you like to hear, for example, about volleyball camps and music camps and how much fun I'm having driving from one end of town to the other in triple digit heat? Would you like to know about my runs through the desert and how I recently bought a stopwatch to help me pay a little more attention to actually running? Would you like to know about my attempts to write a story and how I recently held a word count contest to help me pay a little more attention to actually writing? Or how I've been doing physical therapy for a situation with my neck and am assigned these pathetic exercises with 2 lb weights and the trainers, all superfit young men who can't stop looking at themselves in the mirror, say things like are you sure you don't need a spotter for that?
Rest assured, dear reader, it is all unspeakably...exciting.
I hope your summer is, too.