Too close, too close.

Last night to celebrate the end of the kids' vacation all the grown ups stayed up until midnight watching TV movies. I was stuck on Lifetime, which I haven't indulged in since I worked at the hotel at the beginning of last year. T suddenly remembered that we have an Oreo ice cream cake in the basement freezer, in honor of her birthday.

So, naturally we gorged ourselves and went to bed.

On the way to the kitchen after all our movies ended E asked me what I was doing up so late when I had work in the morning. He promised to send the kids right to me first thing.

"Oh, didn't T tell you? I'm off tomorrow."

She and I had just gone over the month and discussed my days off. She knew perfectly well that I was working today, but I guess because of the hour and the sugar her mind blanked because she ran to the calender in panic.

I laughed at her and told them I'd be here and not to worry. I also told them I am going to start writing whatever I want on the calender.

This morning we took one look at each other and laughed. We all looked like we had been at a frat party gone wrong. Or right, depending on how you look at it. E left for work and T and I quickly consented to chocolate sandwiches for breakfast, something we have done a lot over break and that we are really regretting these days.

But hey, it was our vacation too.

Now that it's over, of course I am wondering where it went. Once the house was quiet I got some serious cleaning done. My beautiful cordless vacuum, the one I just got, my new shining joy, stopped working properly and is dead to me. T used her power of returning things at Bed, Bath & Beyond (according to their policy you can return any product at any time, it's their problem, not mine) to secure us a new cordless vac after several interim weeks of not cleaning the floors.

The new one is ok I guess but it's just not the same thing...

Isn't that sad?

Here's another sad thing. R's little potty issue has spread to J, the good one.

I threatened her with potty training and time outs and she magically recovered from her forgetfulness and has been using the potty faithfully. J stopped having trouble over night and has been 100% diaper free for well over a month.

The other day he pooped in his pants (I believe you know about that) and in the last few days he has had several pee accidents, after which he smiles broadly and informs us that his pants are wet.

Last night I put him in a diaper and his mom took all his underwear. He didn't seem to mind.

This morning his diaper was dry and he was fine all day at school. I asked him if he had to potty as soon as he walked in the door after school and he said no. Here we are less than two hours later and he has had an accident.

Well, I don't know how accidental it is.

I put him in a diaper again and he is in time out for the next few minutes. Not 3 for his age, because if I gave him a 3 minute time out he wouldn't even notice, but enough minutes for him to get bored. Ugh. Supernanny.

Tonight has a lot of promise.

It is leftover night since T and E are gone for dinner. T had several appointments in the city today and even though E's office is local now I think he is in the city today as well.

Usually the days when they are gone all day long go pretty smoothly because the kids don't have multiple people to swindle into doing their bidding. And since the last two times I had them all day were so completely disastrous, I figure tonight either has to be better...or it can't get much worse.

Either way, they'll be in bed by 8 o'clock.

Now, I need to go back to policing the playroom for children standing directly in front of the TV. It's one of my favorite past times.

Vacation is OVER!

Willie Nelson has been acting weird lately.

I know this is not unusual for the musician, but for our dog it's a little worrisome. Only a little though, not enough to think to actually do something.

He's been moping a lot the last few days and all I can think is that he is as sick of the kids being home for three meals a day as I am.

I slept until 9 this morning and when I got into the kitchen he was waiting eagerly for me even though he had already been let out. E greeted me with "good afternoon!" and then we all dove right into the day.

T is feeling marginally better, but if you ask E she is in full recovery and it's all because she ate soup (which she despises) and fresh orange juice. She still sounds awful and when he insisted that she was feeling better and then tried to get me to take his side in the argument I got scared.

"You never tell a pregnant lady how she feels. She will KILL you."

T nodded in confirmation.

Fourth pregnancy and he hasn't learned that yet? How is he still alive?

The kids worked on breakfast and I fed the baby in the playroom. The garbage company thought it would be funny to show up even though it's a holiday so there was a scramble to get that out, which I took no part in.

E took one for the team and packed up all three kids and went to his mother's for three hours. T worked from her home computer and I folded laundry and watched TV.

Not a lot of stressers in this house today.

We even made a plan for dinner BEFORE 3 o'clock, which almost never happens. I am going to start planning weekly meals. I've held off this long in order to get into the swing of how things work around here but we've hit 6 months and I think I get it. It's like this: T doesn't think about dinner until dinner time. And I am more strict about schedules for the kids so she is totally cool with feeding them at 6 while I like to feed them at 5 so that they are absolutely in bed by 8.

Nanny don't mess around.

So, I've decided that a the ruler of the kitchen I am going to start planning our dinners ahead of time and adding those needs to the grocery list, which I am also in charge of. And with this decision came the one to start couponing.

I've avoided it for this long, not because I don't like saving money. Indeed, I love money. My heart races a little at the very sight of it. But when the couponing trend started up I got scared. Real scared. It quickly escalated into something of a cult, taking along four or five of the most sane people I know.

And then I was terrified.

And then I joined Groupon. You know, just to see what it was all about.

And I guess now I'm one of them.

So I might as well own it and get a notebook and a highlighter and an accordion folder and start using my morning downtime to read feverishly through all the coupon books the blasted mailman keeps shoving through the hole in our front door.

I folded laundry while E and T force fed lunch. After lunch T decided to go pick up the few things we need for dinner tonight since I have not implemented my wonderful plan yet. She told J when he asked that he could go with her and then told him to get his jacket.

He was soooooooo sloooooooow about doing it that she ran up behind him going, "Get your stupid jacket!" muttering the word 'stupid' under her breath of course. Her impatience made us all laugh because it is VERY out of character for her and because she seemed more annoyed with the jacket than with J.

"Vacation is over!" I announced, immediately lapsing into a daydream of the kids leaving for school tomorrow morning.

And so it is.

Take 2.

Welcome back to my almost daily blog. I'm sure I will miss days but I'm going to strive for more than once a month again. It helps me. And apparently I'm like the blog version of the Truman Show so I wouldn't want you guys to miss much.

My little Great Neck employers are starting this year off sick. T has been suffering with a cold for a week now. She's seriously pregnant and so she doesn't have many options for treatment other than to steam up the kitchen so she can breathe and the rest of us can look like we haven't bathed or brushed our hair in weeks. Today was her birthday, I won't give away her age, but let's just say that we recycled multiple number candles from other birthdays this year to use on her cake. I was tempted to make her one, but since last night was New Year's Eve and today is Lounge Around the House is Pajamas Day I didn't have it in me. E picked up an Oreo ice cream cake and we all pigged out around 3 this afternoon.

I stayed home from church this morning just to help T with a ladies' brunch to celebrate her day but she was so miserable she didn't invite anyone over. Instead, E made her several batches of fresh squeezed orange juice and hot tea and I did my best to keep the kids from killing themselves and each other from the comfort of the playroom daybed.

It was a long day.

The baby grew up over Christmas vacation and is now calling me "Timmy" which no one has done since my oldest nephew was this small. It melts my heart every time. Except when he's annoyed about something and then I'm just "Tim! Tim! Tiiiiiiiiiiim!"

The brat.

He's just getting over the cold that T still has; it tore through the entire household. Rafi and I had it ever so mildly. It destroyed my voice for a couple of days but I wasn't bedridden the way E was (but we all know that men are big crybabies about colds anyway so who knows how bad off he really was) and my nose didn't run nonstop for three day the way J's did.

That was a gross phase.

I was home for Christmas. But it wasn't white at all. I mean, we were there so I guess in that sense it was white, but outside was just mildly cold and damp and kind of like early Spring. Inside we had a Puerto Rican themed dinner, a portion of which was ordered from my authentic Puerto Rican aunt (favorite aunt shout out!) who sells her amazing food. My mom placed her order and my sister and I picked it up on our adventure into the city one day. Mom had it in her freezer and then forgot to bring it along on the two hour journey to my brother's house for Christmas weekend.

We got lucky; Mom was able to have it couriered to the halfway point between her house and my brother's and so she only had half as far to drive alone on Christmas Eve morning as punishment for forgetting. While she was gone I slept until 11.

Do you know how long it had been since I had done that?

Too long.

When I lived on my own and worked in retail I slept until an hour before my shift, no matter what time I worked. There were days that I didn't go in until 4 pm. I was never happier than when my schedule was random and unpredictable. But I guess part of getting a real job that pays a real salary is sucking it up and dealing with the real hours and so I get up every morning and do what I should and it was KILLING me.

We really need more BIG holidays.

But I'm settled back in here again with all my new electricity in the basement and my Christmas goodies. And a few Hanukkah goodies as well.

Last night I hit the town with one of my newest besties (kindred spirit shout out!) and we ran around to as many places as possible before the ball dropped. We had the New York experience with roasted nuts and a Pedicab ride. We even screamed simultaneously in a bar when Blake Shelton came on the TV.

I had the pleasure of good company while drinking and celebrating and laughing and admiring several pairs of really cute shoes. The only real downside to the whole night was the slew of American girls who insist that the whole world needs to see their rear ends and possibly even glimpse their lady parts. I am not opposed to risque hemlines. I am opposed to hemlines that reach JUST to the end of the butt cheek and therefore force the entire population of Penn Station to see private things that we would really prefer you kept private. I also don't need to see all of your boob except for the one-inch area covered by a flower petal (Taryn, this girl came out of the bathroom while I was waiting for you and I can't believe I forgot to tell you!). There are plenty of ways to look trashy and tacky that are fun without exposing yourself to the world. I have respect for the girls who cover it up but still look like $3 hookers.

They have a certain air of classiness to them.

Now, back to home. The kids have off from school tomorrow and then we can return to our previously scheduled programming. I cannot wait to get back on track. In the whirlwind of the holidays T bravely sought out a new cleaning lady, as none of the old ones ever come back (apparently return business is not something the state of New York is familiar with) and twice she had the same woman come and clean our bathrooms and do some other stuff that no one here wanted to do.

It's so awesome.

Except this past Friday the lady came and she seemed perfectly nice and she cleaned the bathrooms and then she hung out in the kitchen all day and I don't know what she was doing for the last two hours of her shift, but it was not cleaning related. I had all three kids to deal with and wasn't paying her much attention except to make sure she stopped and took lunch and sat down for a bit. I saw her get up after that and she looked like she was doing something. T was at work all day and she just came home in time to pick up the woman and drive her home.

Right before T got here E's mother showed up and then invited over her teenage granddaughters, the really rude girl and another girl who I don't think I've mentioned before but who seems slightly more aware that she's not the center of the universe. They got the kids all riled up while E's mom followed me around asking me what the kids had eaten that day. They woke up the baby and then E pulled up outside with a moving truck.

He just moved from his office in the city to a local office and he was emptying furniture our of his city space. He showed up with the truck and a pair of employees who were helping him move a couch. Now, I don't know how Mom E did it, but somehow she managed to be in two places, nagging to people to the brink of suicide at the same time.

I finally got away from her and had to track down Miss Snooty Pants (for the record, snobby is fun, snooty is unacceptable) who had literally running away from me with the baby who needed a bath.

And just so we're absolutely clear about how this day was going I feel I should mention that J had POOPED in his pants a couple of hours before (while the cleaning lady was there) and then had fallen asleep in his consequential time out.

He woke up to his insanely loud cousins and started crying.

So. Are you with me? Cleaning lady, poop, crying, crying, movers, mother-in-law, two obnoxious teenagers. Oh, and R, following me around with an angry pout because she cannot stand her teenage cousins any better than I can.

Cut to that night.

Shabbat dinner complete, kids in bed, catching our breath after everything and T finally gets a chance to look at her house. The entire kitchen was filthy. Not just a little messy; filthy. Nothing the cleaning lady had been instructed to do was done in that room.


I told T I hadn't been overseeing anything as I had our mother-in-law to deal with. As I finished my story about her E walks into the room and goes, "If you think that's annoying you should have been there when she 'helped' move the couch." She had peppered him with ridiculous questions as well.

No one had time to notice that the cleaning lady was hanging out. T was mad.

I am not. I can't say that it's right, but I can admit that if I had been in that lady's shoes and I had seen how chaotic this house was, I would have snuck in some down time too. Anyway, all I care about are the bathrooms. The hardcore kitchen scrubbing I'll do...eventually.

Which brings us back to here and now.

New year, new basement electricity, new semester of school.

It should all be very interesting.

I'll keep you posted...

Are you ready? Cuz here we go.

I've downloaded the Fresh Beat Band to my iPod and I must admit to listening to it more than the kids. I don't know what's wrong with me.

In addition to children's music, Christmas music has taken over a good portion of my life. Granted it was only Christmas two days ago, but you would think that three months of the Bare Naked Ladies singing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen would be enough but it's so not.

I went away for four days over Christmas, leaving early Friday morning and returning late Monday night. I did ALL the kids' laundry before I left and was greeted with three full loads of their crap when I arrived home.

And yes, it feels like home.

Everywhere feels like home.

You know that phrase, "make yourself at home"? You don't even need to say that to me. I will. And I have. If you've ever invited me in to use your bathroom I now feel like I own your house.

Anyway, cut back to me doing three loads of laundry. R used 9 pairs of panties in 4 days. I don't know what goes through her head, but she changes outfits like five times a day and that includes underwear. She wasn't much more conservative with socks either.

And the family must have attended parties every night because every nice sweater and pair of jeans in this house was dirty. There was a pile of coats and fleece in the kitchen and J had peed on the daybed in the playroom, thoroughly soaking several stuffed animals and a pillow.

Christmas vacation over.

It was probably good that I had something to keep me busy all day because I overslept this morning after my violent crash from my four day sugar high. When I went to bed last night I was WIRED and I felt a lot like Hammy in Over the Hedge.

I had managed to nod off on the bus ride home but then running from there to the train and people watching on the late night LIRR woke me up again. I had so much energy I unpacked my bags. I've never unpacked the night I got home from anything. Ever.

Not even Africa. I usually just crash and then I unpack as I need things.

It was so weird.

And before I forced myself to stop moving and close my eyes and pretend to be asleep until actually falling asleep (my new insomnia-fighting tactic) I sat down and charged all my electronics and then AND THEN I wrote New Year's resolutions.

I have never done that before. I've never even thought of any before.

I've always thought the whole tradition seemed silly. And I still do. But I'm going to participate anyway because I am nothing if not a hypocrite.

So here's what I got:

1) Stop being such a hypocrite.

2) Do my devotions once a day (not once a week in seven rushed entries).

3) Blog every day.

and my personal favorite,

4) Talk the kids into talking their parents into getting them (me) a kitten.

I've always thought this was off the table because the kids are always telling me "Daddy's allergic" but T just informed me that he's allergic to dogs too and Willie Nelson is still here...so...

I think it's only fair that if I am willing to put up with his dog breath and BO and clean the stupid frog tank once every...well...twice, I've cleaned it twice, then I deserve the pet I actually want.

I would ask directly, but I have a feeling the pleas of little children are more effective than the demands of the nanny.

Although, nanny demanded a few other things that nanny got. Nanny has had no trouble having demands met. Maybe I should...but this way just seems to much funnier.

Now, monsoon rains and wind are threatening to knock out the power so I have to go soak up as much cable as possible before the blackout.

Snobby holidays!

That's what I am going to wish people this year.

Tonight I have a Christmas party to attend which means tomorrow I will be a sleep-deprived mess and then Friday I am taking a Martz bus into the Poconos to be with my family for Christmas. Taking the Martz line is something I have avoided with a fervor ever since moving here. I've only used them twice because you have to sell your organs to afford them, but it seems that at holiday time everybody's prices get that high and since they are the most direct I thought now was a good time to let them have whatever I can get for a kidney.

On Sunday I attended a Hanukkah Harry party, which is basically secret Santa, who I disapprove of. It was at E's mother's house and his side of the family was there. They asked me if my family did a secret santa and I said no, we don't even like Santa. To which E's sister said, "Why? Are you Catholic?"

I just love the disconnect between cultures and religions.

I laughed and told her no and that my church wasn't even against Santa, so to speak, just that I thought it was a silly tradition and that kind of thinking seemed to be prominent in my family.

Regardless of my lack of Hanukkah and what they perceive to be Christmas spirit, I was given two Hanukkah gifts from E's mother. There was a $20 spending limit that more than a few people violated. And since Mom E had just given me a present after J's birthday party last month I wasn't expecting her to feel obligated to get me anything else.

But I received a (horrible) sweater and a lovely brooch, which greatly exceeded the spending limit. E got a keychain and expressed his jealously after we got home. Haha.

For all the grief Mom E has caused me, she is very sweet and she really, really likes me because I take good care of the kids.

Yesterday we did a whole lot of nothing all day and then since T was working through the evening and I had agreed to make dinner, I googled a traditional Hanukkah dinner and fried everything I could think of. I made latkas, chicken and artichokes. T brought home some of the greatest donuts in the entire world.

Right before she got home her mom stopped by to say hi to the kids. She hung out for a bit and they played while I cleaned the war zone that my room has become since the electrician came in to install outlets. I HAVE ELECTRICITY!

When it was time to T's mom to go she said she had to run out to the car and then came back, handed me some folded up cash and said, "Merry Christmas. Don't lose it."

I had vivid flashbacks to my childhood when anyone gave me money and my mom said the very same thing, and then I laughed and thanked her and she headed out.

We ate so late that the kids were a wreck, not mention the effects of the cold that they are all getting over. It took over an hour, but we got them all fed and then they were presented with their one big Hanukkah present; a play kitchen.

R was beside herself with joy while it was being assembled.

I took the kids one at a time to get ready for bed in matching pajamas and then they sat by their kitchen for the photo op of the century. J was literally falling asleep while droning, "cheeeeeeeeeeeeese."

This morning the kids were barely functional but we all have so much to do we sent them off to school anyway. I planned out my travels for the next few days, got a few emails and phone calls out of the way and then of course, since I was online, I had to check Facebook sixty-five times.

I thought I had neglected you all long enough too, so here's what that resulted in.

I am now going to spend the rest of the day (until party time) washing sheets and clothes so that when I come back after four days away I won't have to do much. It's all about planning, people, planning.

I like to make detailed plans to get everything done at once so that I can slack off for days at a time.

It's going to be great.

Merry Christmas and snobby holidays!

If I had to live through today, so does everyone else.

I'm not usually one to refer to a day as a "hard day."

In my opinion they each have their challenges and graces. There aren't many full days of my life that I can just discount as crappy and wish to never live again. Most of them have some redeeming moments.

Today, however, does not.

This was a hard day.

J has perfected the art of puking into his plate when his parents enter the room. When I tell him to stop gagging and chew, he does, but only if no one else is around. If Mommy or Daddy are there he ignores me, continues gagging and loses everything he may have eaten up until that point.

Oh, I'm sorry, was that too graphic for you?

WELL TRY EATING BREAKFAST WHILE THIS IS GOING ON.

So that was breakfast.

And the baby had his last class at the library which might have been the closest thing to a normal activity that we had today except that I didn't take any lady products with me and GUESS WHAT I NEEDED HALFWAY THROUGH THE CLASS.

So, I had to just breathe through that one and we got home and he went to sleep and I sat down and then remembered that I hadn't been home all morning and there were breakfast dishes in the sink and laundry in the dryer and I have a list of things I want done or packed up for tomorrow. So I started on that and R got home all too quickly.

And then the baby woke up early and at first I wasn't sure why but then I did.

Because shortly after he woke up his stomach revolted and his rear end has been on fire ALL DAY. Every hour on the hour he starts pulling at his diaper yelling, "Poopoo! Poopoo! NOOOOOOOOOOO!" And when I change him there's not much in there, just enough to burn his poor hiney bright red and make him scream when I try to clean it off.

I had to stand him under warm water and just rinse it the last few times because I felt so bad trying to wipe his butt.

So while that was going on every 45 to 60 minutes, J got home and started asking for food and then R got home and started asking for food and then -- OH THEN IT GOT REALLY GOOD.

Remember when we were in school and it was fire drill day and you were sitting in class and everything was normal and then all of a sudden you were partially deaf and you were thinking, why am I always seated right next to the alarm on this day?

That's what it felt like right around 4:30 in this house today. I mean, it was already pretty hectic and noisy but when they coordinate so that noises are coming at you from every direction in every possible octave at the highest achievable decibal level it really is something mind-blowing.

My mind was blown.

Then it was time to make dinner.

I've never cooked "dark meat" chicken before. It's the chicken thighs that have been deboned and honestly, I don't know why this is considered food. I find chicken thighs pretty revolting to begin with but when you turn them into floppy, fatty blobs of "meat" I just don't see how this is appetizing.

But that's not the point.

I've never cooked dark chicken and so I've also never smelled it. IT STINKS. I opened the package and almost threw it all away. But it didn't smell rotten. It just smelled awful.

Is that what animal carcass smells like?

I haven't been eating a lot of meat in the recent months, less and less as times goes by. I've had only chicken and some turkey on Thanksgiving, but after tonight I think I am leaning closer to full-fledged vegetarian.

I doused it in spices, all the while replaying that episode of Seinfield where George's dad tells about spicing the rancid meat during the war and making an entire mess hall of soldiers sick. I was picturing my kids taking two bites and then doubling over in pain and vomitting all over the kitchen when I called my mom to ask her if dark chicken is supposed to smell like the worst thing on earth and, more importantly, why anyone eats it.

After we decided that it was ok, I had to chase the kids out of the kitchen and away from any potential snacks. I changed the baby and smothered his hiney butt in cream and powder and ointment. I checked on dinner. I changed the baby. I told them no snacks. I changed the baby.

You see where this is going? For an hour.

Skip to dinner.

R tasted the chicken and said it was so yummy she could eat without mayo. This is a huge compliment. I fed the baby only rice and kept asking him to describe the goings on in his diaper. All was quiet in the Pampers.

J ate his rice and then began practicing his most annoying behavior. I think he must have entered a contest or something because he pulled out all the stops. Bouncing, getting out of his chair, gagging, spitting his food out, crying, you name it.

His response to time outs lately has been to snap into action and gobble down his food.

Not so tonight, my friends. Not so.

After two tries I put him to bed. He was tired. I have things going on. The baby was screaming again. Bed time for J!

He washed up, brushed his teeth and went to sleep.

I think he knew as well as I that he had no fight left in him.

While he was lying in bed drifting off but still whining, the baby was half nude on his changing table cursing my name while I dabbed ointment on his bright pink rear end, R discovered a fallen Saltine in the hallway.

Rather than summon the dog as is habit, but we have been scolded by the vet for doing recently, she was a good girl and she went downstairs to get the dustbuster. I left the baby's butt to air dry a bit and went to tell J to zip it. I got back to the baby's room in time to hear R return with the vacuum, clean up the mess and then drop the dustbuster and spill everything inside it onto the hallway floor.

Everything, including the Saltine she'd just picked up, three tons of baby powder (I might be exaggerating) and a few dead critters from my neck of the woods.

"Sorry Kimmy!"

"I know, I know. You are trying to help me. I appreciate it."

I sent her to watch the baby on the changing table while I took care of the grossness. J fell asleep.

We let the baby down to run around diaper-less in his room for a while. I rolled up his rug and closed the door so that any drippings would land on the exposed wood and be dealt with immediately.

The first pee I missed, but it was small. I noticed it after he stepped in it a few times and tracked it all over the room.

The second one was slightly more intentional. He sat down on a vinyl playmat R had brought into the room, peed and then cried happily, "Mess! Mess!" And splashed joyfully.

The third one (IN FORTY MINUTES, MIND YOU) was a river. There was motive, intent and passion behind it. I saw the puddle only for a fraction of a second before my hand moved on its own accord, siezed the baby and removed him from the vicinity, even while he began to smile and chant, "MESS! MESS! MESS!"

He seemed to be feeling better and I seemed to be losing my very last precious marble (and I NEED my marbles, I really do) so I cleaned him up, dressed him for bed and ditched him for the night.

But wait, there's more.

R, my right hand, my sweet helper, turned against me.

There was stomping and throwing of oneself onto the bed in anger. A surge of tears and a long moment of defiance before Kimmy won. And win I did.

She was calm again as we tucked her into bed and then, thank goodness for God's timing, E got home. I ran away the way I used to clock out after my retail jobs. Quick like a bunny, a band-aid. Make like a tree and get the heck out of there!

The best part of all of this, the real punch line to the entire day?

T was supposed to be home at 4.

Basement ecosystem update.

I’ve become very accomplished at falling asleep without killing all the other living things in the room. Call it maturity, call it severe exhaustion, but it’s happening.

For some reason I can’t quite put my finger on, crickets are attracted to my corner of the basement and my corner alone. They’re coming in through the (now empty) cess pool trap and then they make their way around the perimeter of the basement and into my room. They set up shop on the wall to the right of my bed, under the window, and then wait to see if I am going to kill them.

If I try to, they jump around like hyperactive children while I suppress screams and risk nosebleeds from my sky-rocketing blood pressure. If I succeed I am left with a pile of cricket legs and guts and the knowledge that one more wooden puppet has lost its conscience. If I don’t succeed, the cricket hops out of sight for ten to fifteen minutes and then makes the trek back to the open trap.

If I don’t make an attempt on their lives, they just sit on said wall and watch me read. Sometimes they sing and I have learned it is best to just join in lest I lose my mind trying to tune the little buggers out. We might harmonize a patriotic number or a T Swift ballad (back up, baby, back up) or lately, a heart-wrenching rendition of O Holy Night and then as I drift off to sleep I watch them slowly tip toe up the wall and into the oblivion between the rafters.

Ok, it’s not an oblivion, it leads directly outside.

Surprisingly, nothing comes in that way. That I’ve noticed anyway. I intentionally don’t pay much attention.

I haven’t seen any spiders down here since I started spraying for them on a regular basis. And the silverfish have been diminished to such low numbers of youngsters (You can tell because they are small. Those two and three inch monsters are 6 months to 2 years old. That’s right, there’s a bug with a longer lifespan than some goldfish. Barf.) that they have had to regroup and retreat until they are of marriageable age and can reproduce to save their population. But the joke is on them; I’m going to kill them before they can do that.

But I have an occasional roly-poly, which I don’t mind at all. And once or twice I’ve come across some beetle-looking thing, but not on my side of the basement, so I don’t mind them.

And so I have learned to sleep with these critters haunting my space, namely the crickets. I’ve forgiven their resemblance of spiders and as long as they are not touching me or my bed I can handle bunking with them.

At least until I get over this recent bout of insomnia and can function again.