Vicky saw a wasp yesterday and ran headlong through our screen door.
That’s it. That’s all I have.
You really had to be there. There’s probably nothing that evokes pathos so much as fear and nothing so evoking of laughter as the pratfall. So, there I was, feeling very sorry for Vicky… and laughing my ass off.
You see, Vicky is an incredibly level-headed person. She can handle just about anything… just about… and the thing is, she knows it. She’s incredibly confident in her own ability to handle just about anything, so confident, in fact, that it is supremely gratifying to see her taken down just a peg, like when she runs straight through a screen door, trying to avoid a single wasp.
This happens with spiders, too. This incredibly confident, competent woman will suddenly scream my name in a way she never does, pleading for my help, because a spider might be several yards away from her.
All of us reach that age, eventually, where we realize that we are mortal, vulnerable, fallible, and just to soft and fleshy to be impervious to a whole heck of a lot. I am confident that Vicky will reach that age and find the wisdom that being able to handle just about anything is not the same as being able to handle anything.
Until that time comes, at least, I’ll have something to do, killing wasps and spiders. Otherwise, I’m just furniture, another thing lying around the house because, sadly, I don’t know how to fix screen doors.