This is probably the last thing on I want to hear. A little perspective, it’s up there with “An asteroid is headed towards earth and your country will be the last to be affected by this globally devastating impact. Pack a poncho.”
I am an extremely sensitive person; the day my sister called in Rosebud’s pest control professionals was a reportable incident. Even the slightest element of gore has a profound impact on my outlook. For example, once I saw a horse giving birth and I talked about it more than my aunt talked about how she had, on the same day given birth to a real live person. The day I was seated at the kitchen table and an actual maggot fell into my hair was definitely a day I’d gladly trade for any other. I’ve never wanted prayed for fly larvae extermination before, but that day, I was a woman reduced.
My hair is a no-go zone. Mum used to try to braid it, but I’d rip them out. I made a deal with her. On school days, I would tie it back in a ponytail if she promised never to touch it again. Other than that, it was out of bounds. Once a kid poured teal glitter into my school hat, (I tried my way round that school rule, belive me) so naturally I refused to stay in class.. My homeroom teacher reluctantly called my mum, oblivious to the fact I could hear her when she stiffly told mum I’d had another overreaction to the fact I had hair. NOTE TO YOURSELF MS CLOHESY, THE HAIR ITSELF IS FINE.
My reaction to the maggot was memorable.It involved upending a tray of spinach rolls and throwing out the unaffected contents of a fruit bowl. I was, apparently, whitefaced, green, then red.
Luckily my sister pushed me into the bathroom and told me she’d dial pest control. I was lucky to get them in on the same day, due to a cancellation (WHO CANCELS PEST CONTROL?) Not me. The second those guys got here I felt better.