The bugs are winning!

August 2, 2013 0630

            The tent too small to stretch out in now houses our few belongings and we made a bed in the back of the truck.  After weeks apart and two days of homelessness our inability to hold and comfort each other was bringing stress between us.  Early in the night we attempted intimacy that was quickly stopped by the incisive bombing from the bloodthirsty bugs.  First, came the buzzing in your ear like a missile about to blow up the town.  Then came the swift sting of a bite in the hardest spot for you to reach at that moment.  The flaming arrows shot from across the field peppered out bare bottoms until the mood was gone in desperate tears.  Yes, I cried when the bugs won that battle.

            Deciding sleep was best we curled up next to each other with our sweat covered bodies and our stick on clothes.  We covered with my comforter.  I loved that comforter because it felt so nice to curl up next to.  But tonight it was wet and dripping with sand.  So, we pulled the wet cover up around us and then I tucked my head into my shirt.  I wanted to cover my ears.  The constant buzzing of missiles were wearing on my final nerve of sanity.  But, after only a few minutes of us beating each other and ourselves up with constant swats to the bugs we moved to the cab of the truck.  I wish I had an extended cab truck.  The truck was quiet and after only an hour or so of swatting we had killed all the bloodthirsty bugs inside the cab.

            The truck was stuffy and our bodies continued to raise the temperature.  The itching did not stop.  Huge welts remain all over my body and the once nonessential bug spray seems very important this morning.  I hate the nights here.  This beautiful nature paradise turns into a mystical place of evil.  I am stuck in a horrible reality show and no one will vote me off the island.

            After hours of kicking each other, bickering, apologies, and cramped joints we finally hated each other enough to leave the cab of the truck.  The Goat Man currently sleeps in the back of the truck stretched out now that the bugs are full and the sun is up.  However, I decided to walk down the road.  I decided I could not take the Goat Man anymore and I was going for a walk.  I was away from the safety of the truck less than fifteen minutes.

            As I approached the trail that leads to the tower this am the sun was rising over the marshy water we saw the alligator floating in yesterday.  I stopped a minute and gazed at the gorgeous beginning.  I had the urge to go down the trail to the tower, but hesitated remembering how close it came to the water.  The Goat Man tells a story he heard from a park worker about a ten-foot alligator that eats the cows.  The night before last I heard cows mooing in the middle of the night.  So, I turned away from the dark path.

            I was headed to the less primitive bathroom.  I just wanted to wash off.  I could not take the chance that the blue monkey faced spider was still hanging out in the cold showers by the campsite.  I was angry and I wanted to feel better!  Just after making my decision and turning toward the woman’s bath I saw the pig.

            My daughter in law said there were wild boars here, but the park worker said they had been removed.  But, there I stood mortified and frozen as a pig wanders across the field before me.  Where is that alligator now?  It looked more like a pig than a wild boar.  I say that only from TV reference.  I am not an outside kind of gal.  I did not see long tusks.  I did not see any tusks at all.  Don’t wild boar have mean vicious tusks?

            No worse for the wear I watched the pig meander slowly across the field then stop to drink.  I did not see the ten-foot alligator.  I turned around and headed back to the truck.  Where I played it aloof like I fully intended to come wandering up.  My racing heart was only loud in my ears and did not give me away.

            Each day the Goat Man and I learn something new.  Last night we learned that two grown adults cannot sleep comfortable in the cab of a pick-up truck.  After nothing but disturbed sleep I finally got up.  I needed to move my stiff aging body while I still could.  Leaving the Goat Man in his peaceful slumber probably dreaming of my demise I sit at the picnic table writing my account of the pig.  I don’t know if the bugs retreat because they are full, the sun came up, or because there are no more places on my body to bite, but it has been peaceful here.

            My battery runs low or I would tell you of the sounds I have been listening to.  It is obvious I am not alone in these woods.  I heard rustling.  I heard sniffing.  I heard hissing.  I think of the turtle attack and wonder am I safe here at the picnic table in the middle of our humble abode?