Silence of the Lambs went on in my backyard today.
Silence of the Lambs, people.
There was screaming.
There was running for my life.
It was awful.
I spent the day cleaning up our backyard. Clearing out the garden, weeding, edging and cutting the grass. I don’t mind this kind of stuff in theory. I like the physical activity and there is no better exercise than good, old-fashioned, back-breaking labor.
But there is one problem with me working outside.
I hate bugs and other critters that live outside.
I understand the earth needs them (well, I’ve been told that, I don’t actually understand why), but do they really need to fly and jump?
Anyhow, I digress.
My first task was to clear out the garden and remove the wire fencing around it. This wasn’t easy and required wire cutters and getting down close to it so I could see what areas needed to be cut to remove the fencing from the wood border. About halfway through as my face was mere inches from the ground, a rather large frog jumped up at me from underneath the wood border.
I jumped, then I screamed.
I swear my heart stopped beating for a second until I realized what it was.
Then I ran away to find my husband.
“A frog just scared the crap out of me,” I said, when I found him in the garage.
He laughed at me.
I returned to my chores, a little more wary and talking to said frog that I could no longer find. “If you know what’s good for you, you hopped your little green butt out of my yard. And if any of your little froggy kin are hiding in here, they better leave too if they know what’s good for them.”
I was all talk.
I’d run away again if I saw another one.
A little while later I began cutting the grass. I passed by the fence when a grasshopper flew past me, brushed against my arm and landed on one of the posts. I seriously had visions of the end times and had to compose myself before I could start moving again.
But I kept one eye on that dumb grasshopper until I was far, far away.
I was about half-way through the lawn mowing when I stopped dead in my tracks.
SILENCE OF THE FREAKING LAMBS.
About 6 inches from me, on one of the fence posts was the biggest moth I had ever seen. In my mind it was as big as a crow, but in reality it was maybe just a bit larger than a hummingbird. But a moth. A huge, ugly, staring at me moth that I know was plotting my death. I left the lawn mower running. I backed away (like 10 feet away) and just stared at it. I kept wishing for it to move. It did. It moved it’s wings and body but stayed planted right there next to my lawn mower.
I moved froward.
I stepped back.
I looked around for someone, anyone, who could get my lawn mower away from the huge beast on the fence.
I moved forward again.
I stepped back again.
At one point I know I shook my hands at my sides in frustration trying to convince myself to ignore it.
Then I turned around and bolted across the lawn and into the garage as I yelled “I can’t do it” and briefly wondered if the neighbors thought I was a lunatic.
I told my husband I was done, to go get the lawn mower, I’d pay someone to cut the grass because I was NOT going back there ever again. I told him why.
He rolled his eyes.
But he grabbed a can of bug spray and headed armed out into the yard.
He couldn’t find it.
IT’S RIGHT THERE ON THE POST ON THE BOTTOM NEXT TO THE LAWN MOWER.
I had to go back into the danger zone and point out the killer moth.
He knew that moth needed to go or I would not finish cutting the grass. Of course, he likes that I like to cut the grass (cause then he doesn’t have to). The moth wouldn’t move (and I noticed he didn’t get overly close to it either).
So it met an untimely death of bug spray and lawn mower blades.
I did finish cutting the grass but I kept looking around thinking that damn moth, or it’s much larger, much uglier cousin, was buzzing around my head.
I could hear it.
I could feel it.
Yeah, I’m never going in my backyard ever again.
Not without a bee keeper’s suit and a tazer.
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