So this is a long overdue post. Several weeks ago, my friend Beth and I were running some errands together. Our first stop was to Kinkos to make some copies. After, we got in the car and I was driving out of the parking lot, and Beth says to me, very calmly, "Um, Sheila, you have a bug on your arm . . . . " She trailed off because by this point, I have looked down and I see a very large (gianormous!) bug crawling up my arm. I freak out because (a) I have a tank top on and this thing is on my skin, (b) I didn't feel it until I saw it, which is creepy, and (c) I have no idea what kind of bug this is (Beth - any comments here?), and (d) oh yeah, I have a bad history with bugs crawling on me (my dad can tell you a great story involving a cockroach in a mexican hotel bathroom). So I stop the car (thankfully I was still in the parking lot) and scream and flick the bug on Beth.
Not my finest moment.
We both freak out and exit the car, screaming like little girls (ok, maybe just me) and I'm yelling "I'M SORRY! I HAD A BUG ON ME! I'M SORRY! WHERE IS IT? A BUG WAS ON ME!"
Yeah, it wasn't pretty.
I found a piece of paper, scooped the bug up (which was now crawling up Beth's seat), and set him free into the parking lot. He flew away, which creeped me out even more. We got back into the car, me still muttering apologies and laughing, and Beth telling me she can't believe I would flick a bug at her.
Then Samuel asks from the back seat, "What was THAT all about?"