The Ick Factor

I knew I was in trouble, but I couldn’t help myself.

For six years there has been one of those spots in my yard, the spot where you throw all your unwanted stuff, one of those places that is forgotten and neglected. We all have them, like the junk drawer in the kitchen, or my purse, or my closet, maybe my bathroom, oh yah, definitely my car, goodness there’s always my attic, icky, then my dreaded garage, O.K., you get the picture.

The spot in my yard is home to my garbage cans, the worm composter, the regular composter, a tuff shed (another scary, neglected place) so it had a lot of problems already.

I have wanted to clear it and clean it out for a long time. This weekend I finally got my chance. I had my own slave. The slave was my husband working tirelessly under the guilt of Mother’s Day. He cleared the old woodpile out while I removed the broken concrete that was thrown there for lack of a better place.

I knew it was just a matter of time before I ran into a…gag…gulp…kak…POTATO BUG.

Oh yeah, I not only ran into one but two.

TWO. And after that, I dug up a tarantula.

The four alligator lizards were just icing.

I am happy to report I only screamed once.

Stumble It!

Comments

[Carol, May Dreams Gardens]

Gosh, that's really brave of you to have only screamed once. I think I would have screamed when I saw the tarantula. Ick!

[Ricardo Furioso]

I love it when you put my picture directly under the words "The Ick Factor." Ha. xoxo -r

[chigiy]

Carol,
I did scream when I saw the tarantula. Potato bugs gross me out more, but I wasn't expecting the tarantula.

Honey,
You know I don't thing you're icky, You're my love factor.