cicadageddon

so I haven't blogged in quite some time and I haven't hit the sidewalks and exercised as much as I need to, 
I have been avoiding phone calls when I'm not indoors, my laundry is overflowing, 
I ate way too much macaroni and cheese and homemade ice cream last night, 
I got a flat tire one day and my car towed the next...
but it's not my fault...

blame it on the rain.
blame it on Milli Vanilli.

blame it on the cicadas.


 {i feel like they are 42 times this big in person} 

I cannot believe I'm blogging about these ridiculous evil monsters but they may or may not take over Nashville, Tennessee at any waking moment. y'all thought that Brother Harold Camping was a fruit cake when he predicted the world would end last Saturday, but here in Music City, we might have put on our pearls, called our mama and believed him just a little when the cicadas hit their peak on Friday night.

and I'm blaming them for everything.
and they are making me a crazy(er) person.

we've been hearing and reading about Cicadageddon/Cicada Invasion for a few months now, but I had no idea about these little jokers. I wish I could record what it sounds like outside. trust me when I say it sounds like an alien invasion and/or what it would sound like if everyone in the whole wide giant big fat world started their weed-eaters at the same time.



we have actually forgotten what silence sounds like and this is a new normal, a new nuisance ringing in our ears. they are deafening when you walk out the door, you hear them through your car windows, and in your dreams. 
seriously. 

it seems as if I have some mating attraction to them because in a group of 3 people at the pool yesterday, I am the only one that got dive bombed by these freaks and at one point I had two stuck in my ponytail and three crawling down my shirt. guuuhhhrossss. needless to say, I am not flattered.

and just my luck there is apparently a "breeding" tree in the front yard of my new house and there may or may not have been at least 300 of the little suckers dead on the front porch today and I may or may not have re-considered signing that lease.  



but I'm not letting these six legged punks win. I'll bear and embrace it for the next several weeks and instead of sweet tea and cookies and a sweet housewarming party;  you bring the earplugs and beer, forget the crawfish...we're 'bout to have a cicada boil.