It is a complex bug day. As I was bringing the trash out to the barrel a bug fell out of the apple tree and into my shirt, where I crushed it. It was impulsive and I wish I hadn't. On looking at it I saw it was a harmless bug, one that if it hadn't been wiggling against my breast wouldn't have given me any worries.
The cricket that was by my bed yesterday had moved to the back stairs. As I was getting ready to hang the whites on the line I saw him there, hiding in the corner. I gathered him up and put him outside where he belonged.
Part of the white load of laundry was made up of old tablecloths my grandfather decided he didn't need. One was very old; monogrammed witht he letters EF. I think it must have belonged to his mother, Emily Faulkner. Most of the discoloration on the linens came out, although there are still a few rusty spots and a couple little holes.
Clinging to the side of a lace tablecloth was a big spider. Spiders scare me, at least when I don't recognize them. I have spent some time studying spiders so I needn't fear them but the brown recluse still scares me to death. Until I can tell a spider is NOT a brown recluse I try to stay away. I was calm with this spider and was able to fling him away without injury.
After so many bugs I feel like taking a bath but there is no water pressure. I wonder what hoses are on outside.