Big Mother-of-a-Bug in the Laundry Basket
It's laundry-line season. Not only because I now have two kidlets (both pukers), but also because every day is hot and thirsty.
Shortly after we moved into our new house, I told my husband I needed a laundry tree (no room for a proper laundry line). He objects, out of principle, to towels that feel like sandpaper on the nipples, however, he understands the illogical rationale behind pumping power into an air conditioner to cool our house, then paying to heat up a laundry dryer. It makes no sense. The sun will do it for free. And I do love free!
We have a smart metre, so we fill the washing machine with clothes and soap and set it to delay to start at 5 a.m. Then, when we awake groggily from our various noctural adventures with the kiddios, I hang out the laundry for the day (with bamboo clothes pegs).
Tonight, I went out to take downt he laundry with Amelia. I brought Iain some jalapeno and cheddar corn bread, then I parked Amelia in the bumbo beside the laundry hamper and started to drop clothes pegs into the basket and clothes into the hamper. Then suddenly something was moving in the laundry basket and I am ashamed at the shrill shreik that escaped my lips. I am also ashamed that I took a leap back, ready to bolt without my baby.
When Iain came to my rescue, I was wielding a bamboo tomato stake and prodding the red checkered boxers that seemed to be moving in the laundry basket. I was a bit shy when he had to dig way down into the depths of our clothes to fish out the big winged creature. I shreiked again, to my own dismay. Apparently it was a cicada. At least that's what Iain said. All I have to say is "Ew" and "Thank goodness we decided to keep the ugly chain-link fence!"