A cricket sang in my bathtub last night. I named him Larrabee and I flushed him down the toilet. In the morning, I was surprised when Larrabee chirruped brightly as I reached for the shower faucets. I had dreamed the flushing part, which is good since I’m not big on flushing crickets down toilets.
A screech from me, a leap from the cricket and Larrabee kerplunked onto my arm. Like a disco dancer or maybe a woman on crack, I flung my arm wildly about trying to dislodge the evil cricket. In a last ditch effort at survival, I grabbed onto the shower curtain.
My advice? Never grab onto a shower curtain as a means of bodily support. You’ll land on your ass (hopefully not IN the toilet) with a cricket on your head and a shower curtain in your lap. Then, if you are like me, you’ll scream because there is a CRICKET ON YOUR HEAD.
And when that happens, two dogs will come barreling into the bathroom. The pit bull will laugh at your predicament. The muttskie will promptly start chewing on the shower curtain.
All ended well. Celeste chased the cricket. I managed to catch Larrabee and set him free. The shower curtain appears intact. Mina's still laughing. Life is good.