A few Tuesday's ago I set out to make a quick birthday card. I ran down to the basement, grabbed what I needed from a bookcase, and headed back upstairs to work. I don't like being in basements so I always work like this. On the trip upstairs I felt something on the underside of the box in my right hand. I assumed it was dried hot glue and continued on.
I unloaded my materials onto the kitchen table and got to work. A few minutes passed and then I reached for the box. I picked it up (felt the dried glue on the back again), took what I needed out, and began working until I realized that I needed to see the instructions on the back of the box. I grabbed for it one more time (felt the glue on the back AGAIN), flipped it over to find not dried hot glue but a dead, dried worm stuck on the back. It took me a second to recognize it as that was not what I was expecting at all.
I screamed. I'm usually not a screamer but I screamed a whole lot. I couldn't stop myself. I sounded just like Ferris's sister at the end of this 26 second clip.
I dropped it and ran over to the sink to scrub my hands. My ears were ringing and my heart felt as if it would beat right through my skin. Because of a stinking worm, yes. Ever since the day a heathen of a boy dropped a worm down the back of my shirt is when I started loathing them.
I unknowingly fondled that beast at least 3 times and was grossed and weirded out. How the hell does that even happen? Can worms climb vertically? Maybe the worm was lonely and attracted to those squiggly lines on the box.
I did what any normal person would do afterwards. I covered the remains with a napkin, used a pencil to push the box away from where I was working and went on with my business.
When it was time for dinner I carefully carried it out of the kitchen and placed it on the dining room table. I confess that it is still there but I have been dusting around it. Ridiculous? You bet. I keep waiting for it to disappear on its own but no luck. Here's hoping for tomorrow.
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