It is 7p on a Saturday night and I am in bed. I AM SO TIRED from having fun. Honestly, this used to be a lot easier.
Friday was my much anticipated/enjoyed/beloved Iron Maiden Book Club annual overnight. Thank you, Laura B, for the 4th straight year of hosting all of us at your beautiful vacation home in the Shenandoah’s. We roll in Friday afternoon, eat and drink ourselves into a coma while discussing books (“Practical Magic” by Alice Hoffman this month) and have a great time.
I always call dibs on sleeping on the downstairs screened in porch. It a rare treat to see all those stars. I love the chilly air and hearing the owls hooting all night. So after a great evening, I headed out to ‘my’ room and plopped down on ‘my’ couch.
The couch heaved under me. I levitated off. Up came a nightmarish tidal wave of stinkbugs. They climbed the wall behind the couch and in a separate wave, up over the back of the couch & down the cushions. THERE WERE THOUSANDS. It was totally silent, except for my breathing – and the stuff of NIGHTMARES.
Cue a very long hour with me, my lovely hostess and two other women, vacuuming up stinkbugs by the thousands. We finally got enough of them sucked up to pick up the couch and toss it outside into the bushes. We locked the doors behind us. See the thing of terror!! The next day, in broad daylight, it was still too scary to approach....
I finally got to sleep on the upstairs couch at 2am twitching with the heebie-jeebies. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to take a picture. IT WAS AN EPIC PLAGUE.