If Edward were a bug instead of a vampire, every twelve year old girl would want to be me.

And they'd start falling in love with flies. It would be strange.

Anyway, what I mean to say in this post is that I've been a really bad writer lately, but I do have an excuse. I always do. I'm never at fault, got that? Okay, good:

I do most of my thinking when I go on walks, but I haven't been able to go on many lately. It has just been so, so, so, so hot. Like, record breaking hot. Plus a gazillion percent humidity. And there are bugs.

Oh my God, there are bugs.

Ok, actually, I lied. Sort of. There aren't that many. They just all fucking want me. I can go on a walk, and there will be one, then two, then three, then four bugs following me, hanging out with my face and shoulders. And I'll be smacking at them, only I keep missing. Actually, I'm not trying to kill them at all because then I'll have bug guts all over me, and that's gross. And I'd feel bad. I'm just wanting them to leave me alone. So, I'm flailing my arms at them, and the cars passing are probably all staring at me, wondering why no one is helping that poor girl having that awful seizure.

One time, I tried running from them. I was walking in Indian Lands, and I was pretty much the only one there. Except for the bugs. They were positively stalking me. (Just like Edward). Honestly, it felt like there were bugs landing on my head from above. That could have just been me going crazy, but I can picture it-- these four or five bugs taking turns to have their way with me. Two or so hovering around my head to keep me busy, while another one jumps from a tree on to my hair and another flies up to the tree for his turn. Evil little bitches.

So, I decided that maybe I could outrun them. And that they'd forget all about me and go play in the water or (please) fly into a spider's web. Yeah. So, I was running along in my sun dress with no bugs around, and I was starting to feel pretty good about life. Actually, I was feeling so good that I decided it'd be safe to stop running. Well, you know, as soon as I started walking at a reasonable pace, the bugs flew at me again. Fucking shit. So, cursing them, I started running again. Any guesses as to what happened next?

Hint: I'm an exceptionally graceful person.

Okay. I tripped over a root and fell. And got an enormous bruise that's still there even though this was two weeks ago. And while I was helpless on the ground, the bugs were triumphantly buzzing around my face.

It was awful.