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Mike Redmond Column

Please refer to the Mike Redmond Column main page for columns published in other issues.
Mike can be contacted via e-mail at mike@mikeredmondonline.com.

 

 

 

 Warning: Bathroom Could Be ‘Bugged'

The strange people who keep track of such things say the majority of home accidents occur in the bathroom. Today, I know why:

Bugs.

Big bugs. Big, weird-looking bugs with long legs and waving antennae and a penchant for going places they really shouldn’t. Bugs such as the one who just last night made my evening routine much more interesting than I really needed.

The story goes like this:

It was after midnight and I was wrapping up an evening of sitting at my computer playing games and … wait. I was wrapping up an evening of sitting at my computer working hard on an Extremely Important Writing Project (there, that’s better). I gave my dog Cookie one last chance to go out, swatting furiously at the bug convention that gathered around the back porch light while Her Slowness took her sweet time meandering back to the house after her Nighttime Tinkle.

Once the canine was inside, I locked up and headed upstairs to the bathroom for my own evening ritual, including brushing of the teeth I paid so much money for, and gulping down the handful of pills I take for the handful of problems that have popped up since my warranty expired on my 50th birthday.

I had just gulped down the pills and was helping myself to a second Dixie cup of water when suddenly I was aware of a dark presence just at the edge of my field of vision, on the left. Since I’ve had floaters in my left eye, I figured that’s what it was. Then it was gone. I drank the water.

Immediately I knew the dark presence was no floater. I also knew where it had gone.

It was in my mouth. Buzzing.

In the next quarter of a second I did five things:

        1. I jumped four feet straight up.

        2. I banged my left knee, the bum one, on the sink.

        3. I blew water all over the mirror.

        4. I spit into the sink the big, weird-looking bug with long legs and waving antennae.

        5. Then I landed on a bathmat that flew out from under my feet, and fell smack on my butt.

It was like being in my own personal Three Stooges movie.

I don’t know what kind of bug it was. It was larger than a lightning bug and smaller than a roach, but other than that I didn’t get a good look. I was too busy clutching my knee and knocking things off the counter, groping for the mouthwash.

Evidently, Mr. Bug was one of the conventioneers clustered around the porch light and became separated from his tour group while I was holding the door for the dog. No matter. His convention is over. First I hit him with a mouthful of Listerine, and then, while he was reeling from all that minty freshness, I scooped him up and sent him down where the dead goldfish go.

Today I can add to the usual complaints a swollen knee and a sore behind (I wish I could say the behind was swollen, too, but I’m afraid it’s always that size). But I’ve learned my lesson about dangerous bathrooms and have begun to think about taking steps to minimize the hazards.

From now on, when I let Cookie out at night, I might just join her.

 

 

 

© 2007 Mike Redmond. All Rights Reserved.