Gotta write…it makes me feel better when I’m stressed.
Last night my friend calls as 10 o’clock. “Trish can I borrow your scale? I need to weigh some luggage?” My first thought was cool relieve me of the cursed tool invented by some person who meant to inflict 40 year old women with issues. Then my second response-What person in their right mind calls a friend at 10 at night asking for a scale. A good friend. Not good friends know not to call after 9 p.m.
So she sends her daugher over to get the scale. As I’m chatting with the daughter a grasshopper the size of King Kong’s toe comes flying at me. No lyin this bad boy was so big I could see his eyes. When he or she didn’t get me the first time around she came back at me. My friend is across the street rolling with laughter hearing me and her daughter scream like B movie queens. We chuckled and life goes on.
At 11 o’clock my cell phone rings. My friend wants to return the scale. Now I’m questioning her sanity. What normal woman wants her scale back? and at 11 o’clock. I go to the door and no lyin that grasshopper had a vendetta. I opened the door and it came at me again. That’s it! That bad boy messed with the bull this time. I go in and get my fly swatter. I open the door and as predicted it came at me again. That son of a gun hit the fly swatter dead on. It flew to the ground and the fury of every bug that scared me came out. Pwhap! Pwhap some more and just in case Pwhap. I think I was roaring because my friend across the street asked if everything was o.k. We told her that I was killing the grasshopper.
What does my good friend say? You go girl. No. Wow that must have been a scary monster? No. She starts fussing that in order for a grasshopper to get that big it had to live a long time and it wasn’t right that I killed it.
I love my friends. Really I do.