Wednesday, 20 October 2004

Writer In Wonderland

I may seriously have to leave the country. I can deal with the lack of water, lack of food, lack of transport, lack of medical care, bush latrines etc, but these fucking worms are doing my head in. I was sitting down reading last night and they were everywhere. What a ridiculous design flaw these things have. Enter house, flap about light for a minute, lose wings, fall on room and wiggle. I have been picking them out of my hair, my clothes, my dinner, everything. Is GROSS. There are worm carcasses all over the furniture, and the floor is littered with shiny wings. I tried Dooming them but all it seemed to do was make them stick to the lampshade. The Husband thought the worms were funny, but then he had been drinking. I should have given him worm stew. His efforts at helping with dinner resulted in a fire. I knew there would be one sooner or later. He did it while I was out of the house. On my way back in I didn’t know which was puzzling me more, the fact that a lawn had suddenly appeared where previously there hadn’t been one (rains) or the fact that there was a pair of giant orange underpants on said lawn. I went over to investigate. ‘Twas not in fact pants, but one of our teatowels with the bottom two corners burnt off in a circular manner, thus giving the towel the appearance of pants. Albeit pants with the back missing. Or the front I suppose. I went into the house to find The Husband giggling, the worms wiggling and a distinct smell of char. Hunter S Thompson eat your heart out.