Oh, god. Supposedly, the Midwest is going to be swarmed by cicadas. These big, ugly creepy crawlies come out every 17 years, mate and then die. They are harmless, but loud and, as I say, ugly.
I don't do well with bugs. I don't care if they are outside or inside, or doing good things (like people say spiders do). They creep me out. My favorite bug story, which I will share and then leave this yukky topic, is from when I was in Italy a few years ago. I spent a summer abroad at Loyola, my alma mater. We have a campus there, and I was "taking class" but fortunately, the 2 teachers I had were as delighted to be in Rome as I was. I took Italian Literature and Italian 102 and the classes were easy-peasy. Our dorm building is in Monte Mario (where Giuseppe Benetton lives)and is a very simple building. No AC or heat (not too brilliant in June when we were there) no screens on the windows. Our room was sparsely furnished and got no breeze whatsoever. We had an old fashioned wooden shade on our window and usually slept with the shade up and the door open.
We had a computer lab - maybe 20 computers in an L shaped room. Huge windows at our back. One night, Cara and I were on the "good" computer (so called because we could access the AOL instant messenger on it, but none of the others. This is how we "talked" with our families. This was 2000, and the IM programs were not as widely used as they are now.)
Anyway. We're sitting at the computer and gabbing away and suddenly I hear a kind of plopping sound. The kind something airborne makes when it comes through the open window and lands. On the floor was this gigantically ugly bug. It was an Italian bug, and unrecognizeable to me, except that it was huge. "Oh my god," sez I. "That thing is disgusting." Cara told me to go and get the porter. "YOU go get the porter," I said back, but she didn't want to lose the spot at the computer. Damn! So I got up and picked my way around this thing. It was big and black and the size of my fist. The porters over at Loyola were not so good with the English. Only one of them was able to communicate fluently with the students, and he was not on duty when I approached the desk. I got up there and managed to say "C'é un.... bug? Molto grande!!" He didn't understand. One of my fellow students made a not-quite-under-his breath comment about stepping on it with my foot, but hello? I was wearing flip flops and not about to step on this thing. I got the idea across to the porter (god only knows how...) He gave me a sympathetic look like, "silly girl!" grabbed some paper towels, scooped the thing up, and threw it away.
It is kind of sad that this is one of my most vibrant memories of being in Rome... that and climbing to the top of il duomo in Florence (and the 5 gelatos we had after), and visiting LaScala in Milan....
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