June bugs rarely make me smile. I hate the way they Kamikaze haphazardly into my head and get stuck in my hair. The way they pelt the window panes and scratch on the window screens with their thorny little legs is creepy. The crunching sound of the smashed exoskeleton under an unsuspecting flip flop is one of summer’s most disgusting sound bites. Ahhhhh….but did you catch it? The magical word that will hopefully melt away the tragic epidemic of Seasonal Affective Disorder running rampant throughout the Midwestern United States—SUMMER.
When I discovered Lulubelle (my slutty yet un-spayable barn cat) gleefully batting a June bug around in the garage, I smiled. Because I am so tired of the slush, sludge, flurries and ice from winter, that I welcomed the crispy bug of summer with open garage. It’s only April and I associate June bugs with June and I associate June with SUMMER and so one Mr. (or Ms.) June Bug has arrived early (according to my most-likely flawed schedule) and when the June bugs show up good stuff happens. The sun hangs longer and burns brighter. The rivers and beers flow more freely. Friends linger longer and gather more often. Unfortunately for this little messenger of hope, Lulubelle is not only slutty, she also murders June bugs. Well, everyone can’t have a Hakuna Matata ending, it is, after all, the circle of life and who really cares, because summer is almost here!!!
The thought of warm days and zero snow days puts a spring in my step and a reenergized attitude about everything (and by everything, I mean everything but housework, laundry, and domesticated chores in general). Inspired by my most recent audio books (because I like to read and I like to move, so this way I can do both at the same time) which have been narrated by readers with British accents, I have taken to speaking with a British accent to my family and my dogs. (Please read the next sentence exclusively in a British accent): I am quite certain that it is dreadfully maddening to both my family and my dogs. (It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?).
Saturday morning I was still in bed talking to my little dog, Cooper. I tried to get my husband, Kevin, to join in the fun.
Me: Kevin, say to Cooper in a British accent, “Why hello, Cooper. How’s my little poppet today?”
Me: Just say it.
Me: C’mon. Cooper likes it.
Me: Please, Kevin. Just say it.
Me: Why won’t you?
Kevin: (In the BEST British accent ever) BECAUSE I DON’T BLOODY WANT TO!!
The June bug has brought a message of hope, my slutty cat killed the messenger and my husband was obviously a closet watcher of Benny Hill or Cell Block H when he was a youngster. Every day is an adventure! Have a great week and don’t forget to share a bloody smile you dreadful wretch!!