Cicadageddon

It's Monday and Cicadageddon is well under way. Other than crusty exoskeletons that resemble cat turds clinging to every vertical surface, and their creepy red-orange eyes, they are harmless. Unless they crawl up your pantleg while you're driving.

Today I was heading home from an errand, cruising along at 55 miles per hour down a narrow, shoulderless highway when I felt a, uh, presence, shall we say, under my pantleg. So I reached down to readjust the denim only to feel a marble-sized lump just above my sock that was most definitely NOT there when I put my pants on just a few hours before. Logically, then, it would have had to find its own way there. Which meant it was alive! I had just left Rural King so it could be anything! Spider? Roach? Definitely not a baby chick.

After a vigorous shake and some wild stomping, barely keeping my vehicle on the road, a mostly-dead cicada fell out onto the floorboard under my feet. Relieved that it wasn't a South American Tarantula or some other venomous, blood-thirsty demon, the blood slowly returned to my extremities while the creature's spindley legs twitched a cadence that grew weaker and less dramatic as it perished on the way home.

Thanks be to God, I made it home safely. I can't say the same for the beady-eyed trespasser. I don't normally mind creepy crawly things as long as they aren't creeping or crawling inside of my clothing!