Every now and then, I am reminded that I am disgusting.
Some days, it's mild. As demonstrated by:
1. I have been out of dishwasher detergent for two weeks.
2. Collection of bug wings on my desk.
3. Failure to floss.
Other days, it's moderate. As demonstrated by:
1. The smell of death emanating from the drain in the kitchen sink.
2. Yesterday's underwear on the bathroom floor.
3. Toenail that's dangerously close to falling off.
Yesterday, it was extreme.
I paint on the weekends. I like to paint outside, there's less clean up that way. Last weekend, it started to rain on me as I was painting so I rushed everything inside. I set the painting aside to dry and I put my brushes in a jar of water on my desk. The brushes have been sitting in that jar for a week.
Sunday, I prepared to glue more bug wings onto the painting. I had everything ready. I peered into the jar of water to select the perfect brush. There was movement in the jar.
Clearly, sobriety was getting to me. I poured a glass of sangria and looked again.
Swimming and flitting about was a small community of parasitic larva. Yes, little worms. An entire colony in a jar. Just like in my high school biology class. Only this time, Mr. C. wasn't going to give me any extra credit points.
I did what I always do in these situations. I retched. Twice. Then I called people to tell them about my disgusting sea monkey pets.
I flushed the entire microcosm. As I watched them swirl around the bowl, I remembered that mysterious invasion of little flies that I had about a month ago. Mystery solved.