take one woman with low self esteem, but quite good hair
add one moronic illness
stir in some medication which causes hair to fall out
mix it all up and this is what you get...

Monday, November 27, 2006


I squeaked a high-pitched squeak - probably waking some sleeping bats - and froze, my eyes staring at the floor.

He recognised the signs - they could only mean one thing: I had spotted some kind of creepy-crawlie.

"What is it?"
"A beetle. A big, red, shiny beetle - like an oversized ladybird. It ran under the fridge"

I had watched it scuttle under there from somewhere around the area occupied by Big's foot.

I was surprised at how calm I was. Usually, in this situation, I would have screamed and run away. When we had a May bug pay us a visit - after it had taken care to spend several minutes repeatedly head-butting the window from the outside to herald its arrival - I screamed and ran to the top of the stairs where I sat, whimpering. After hearing some muttered profanities and the crunchy thud of Birkenstock on bug, I was informed in a resigned tone that it was now "safe" to come back down. "Just don't look under the shoe - I'll deal with it later."

Yet here I was, still in the kitchen, after having established that there was a large, red beetle in the vicinity.

Big started to pull the fridge away from the wall. We both imagined that this would chase the beetle out from its hiding place, but there was no sign of it.

"Are you sure it went under the fridge?"
"Yes, definitely"

I decided to take the opportunity to sweep up the dusty debris while the fridge was out of the way. This done, Big began to move the fridge back again.

Then he spotted it. He laughed.

"Your so-called beetle..."
He bent down, picked it up and handed it to me
"...is none other than a cranberry."

And so it was.

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