Breaking Point

I am reduced to sitting in a fetal position on my office chair and fantasizing about wearing boots (will explain later). I am actually considering vomiting just to end the rise and fall of puke in my throat. I am afraid to take off my fleece or even move my body. I am rigid with disgust and the inside of my nostrils have begun to itch. In fact, it feels like my whole body is itching. No, these are not more lovely symptoms of Lyme Disease. Perhaps, worse…

Soon after getting all three kids to bed, Spencer went to the neighbor’s house for a drink. I settled into the office to catch up on some emails when I felt something move on my head. I shook my head and thought I’d imagined it but realized that it was too heavy to be nothing. So, I reached up and actually felt a lump. To my horror, a caterpillar fell onto the desk. A CATERPILLAR! It was yellow and fuzzy and began to uncurl and move once on the desk. I am repulsed. I am not camping. I am inside, in my office, and worst of all I haven’t gone anywhere! How did this caterpillar get in my hair? It wasn’t like it was just on top, it was almost underneath the rubberband that’s holding my hair back. This tells me it had been moving around for a bit.

Consequently, I feel sick. Are there no boundaries? I would be much better with an ant, a mouse, or any number of other things. And, the WHOLE story would be different if I were outside. But I am not. I am in the one, tiny space in our home that is just for adults. Until tonight.

So, my very healthy reaction is to text my sisters that I am traumatized (and because they  know me so well they know I am not exaggerating and they are laughing themselves sick). Then, I proceed to call my older sister just to let her know how truly awful this experience is. I am squirming all over.

Oh, and the boots. That seems to be my go-to whenever something comes indoors that I expect should be outside. For example, the dish gloves and boots I donned when the mouse entered my first apartment or the boots my little sister and I wore the first time I babysat her and a squirrel got into the house. My parents actually found us curled up on the couch, with boots on, watching Sesame Street re-runs as we tried not to notice a squirrel darting across the living room floor.

For most people, the breaking point would be the result of a major life event. Yet, I seem to have pushed through severe post partum hemorrhaging, diagnosis of Lyme Disease, and days of twins crying in stereo with more grace than I can muster for this.