On the Saturdays when I'm not too scheduled (which, let's be honest, are most Saturdays), I entertain myself with terrible movies on the Syfy channel. I love Syfy. Ghost Hunters is one of my favorite shows EVER. And on Saturday, Syfy shows these horrible films, which either failed epically in the theater or were produced for about $5 for the channel itself, many of which are about nature gone wacky. This Saturday I watched Lake Placid 2 and 3 as well as Frankenfish. I get such a kick out of being able to predict the plot twists. Obviously, only the best looking cast members will survive, and if you have more than two very goodlooking cast members, it's a fun guessing game to figure out what flaws the characters have that will lead to their deaths despite their good looks. For example, in Frankenfish, there were three young beautiful people, and I wasn't quite sure which ones would fall in love and thus ensure their survival. Then, one of the women admitted that she was a lesbian. Bingo! I knew she was next! Sure enough, ten minutes later her head was blown off by a shot from a rifle that had been sitting in a fire caused by a gas tank overturned by one the gigantic mutant piranha-like fish. Good times!! Anyway, I admit to this habit only to help you understand the mindset in which I faced the events of Sunday and Monday, namely, the Battle of the Grasshopper.
Sunday I went walking on the Jefferson Parkway. It's a nice little trail about a block and a way from my apartment complex that leads you from Route 20 up towards Monticello, about 4 miles in total. Being a flatlander (seriously, the majority of Norfolk lies below sea level. Anything more than a 1 foot rise makes my calves scream), I find the moderately gentle incline to be a good workout for me. And it wasn't too miserably hot for Charlottesville, and I had to clean the bathroom. So I went for a walk. :) When I arrived back to the parking lot, I opened my car, climbed in behind the steering wheel, and was immediately attacked! This grasshopper jumped from the pavement onto my bare leg!! I don't blame it, the asphalt had to be ridiculously hot. But this thing was huge. At least three inches long. And green. And leggy. And, did I mention, ON MY BARE LEG. I responded like any sensible, well-educated woman would: I screamed my head off, shook my leg like a dog having a seizure, and jumped back out of the car.
After a quick check to see no one was in shouting distance, I approached the car again. I looked around, gingerly but thoroughly. My opponent seemed to have vanished. My car is not huge, and it's beige, so I assumed a gigantic green mutant bug would stick out. Seeing nothing, I climbed back in the car, closed the door, and drove off. The whole time I expected the creature to pop back up and was talking myself down; "You will not freak out if it lands on your leg. You will drive safely no matter how many legs are touching you at one time." I once rear-ended someone because a gnat flew in my face, so my fears were not totally unfounded. (I'd say that was another story, but there's not really much else to tell). I made it the three minutes home and went inside, confident my battle was over.
Obviously, I should have known better. Don't I watch Syfy? Don't I know these things always have a second act? On this Monday morning, when I was absolutely DREADING going to work due to my difficult patients that make me feel like I am not qualified to be an OT, and had already broken my tea cookie pot (it's a cookie pot I use to hold tea. And it's shaped like a bunny. Aaaaaaannyway....), I got into my car without a lot of enthusiasm. Pulled out of my lot, turned onto Route Twenty, same old same old. Made it through the first stop light. Stopped by the second. Looked up from my glare of aggression at the stupid light to see the freak-o-bug, sitting on my window about five inches from my steering wheel. Twitching it's antennae merrily.
I'd like to claim credit for being brave and not screaming, but, really, it was all due to my mood. Of course. Of course there was a gigantic grasshopper ready to attack me and make me scream and crash my car on this already accursed Monday. But he'd made one fatal flaw. He'd shown up too early. Clearly, he had underestimated me, and the power of my annoyance. Rather than scream, I gave him hairy eyeball for hairy eyeball and said, "Oh hell no."
Yep. Said it. Aloud. In my car. To an insect. This is why it's better I not carpool.
When the light changed, I pulled off onto the side of the road. Opened my door, and used my handy-dandy romance novel (I carry one in my car at all times, you never know when you need a dose of timekilling optimism) to brush my enemy out towards the street. He fell, helpless and twitchy, to the road. And I closed my door, and drove off, with only the smallest pang of guilt for perhaps leaving him to death by redneck tire crushing. Victory was mine!!! Take that, Syfy movies, I am one of the attractive castmembers!!!
Cue me at work, about ten minutes later. My coworker Kathy walks up to me, and says, "Was that you I saw on the side of Route 20 this morning?"
"Oh, yeah, that was me," I answered, smiling sheepishly.
"I thought it was!" She exclaimed. "I didn't realize it until it was too late to stop, I'm sorry I didn't! What happened, are you ok?"
Victory was no longer quite so sweet. Face turning the delicate shade of tomato cream sauce, I replied, "I'm fine thanks. I just got attacked by a grasshopper."
