Alternate title:

In which I explain why I shouldn’t get a lizard.

Miraculously, I managed to complete everything I needed to during yesterday evening’s far-driving mega productivity-fest, including the coffee and the pedicure. Damn, I’m good. So good that, in between the driving and the oil changing and more driving and the pedicuring, I also managed to create a mini-infestation.

I bought crickets for my toads and went home to feed the toads, the cats and myself before heading out to St. Paul. Unfortunately I was in a rush, became distracted by my burning spaghetti sauce and left the cricket container open on the kitchen counter. And since the sauce was burning because the toad’s aquarium is in the kitchen and I, of course, became distracted by the toads while cooking, I find this very fitting and blame no one but myself. And the toads and crickets. And the entire concept of cooking.

So I’m cooking, or at least uselessly poking at the sauce with a spoon when I notice my counter is swarming with crickets. I did the only thing I could think of  and started grabbing wine glasses and placing them upside down over the crickets before they could all get away, which was actually kind of  pretty, a counter full of crickets trapped under wine glasses. And me without my camera!

Eventually everything was sorted and as it should be, other than the few lucky crickets that made a break for it (and I desperately hope didn’t end up in my spaghetti sauce), and I realized two important things. 1.) As much as I want to, this probably isn’t the best time to get a lizard (yeah, I was thinking about getting a lizard) because lizards eat crickets and crickets are trouble, and 2.) I’m never, ever cooking again. Or trying to cook. Ever. It’s for the greater good.

Hmm, I should probably buy some cereal on the way home from work.