Some nice Mormon history for you: If you haven’t heard about the Mormon crickets, allow me to enlighten you with a one-sentence version of the story. Mormon pioneers’ crops were attacked by hordes of awful, disgusting crickets (actually grasshoppers), and then, miraculously, hordes of gulls came and ate all of them. There’s even a park in Salt Lake City that features a stone grasshopper. These Mormon crickets are kind of a big deal.
Why I just told you that one sentence story: I find that whenever I experience something of a blogging drought, a drastic event occurs. To be honest, I think I’d rather have a series of small low points on a very regular basis than a few enormous ones sporadically, but apparently I have no say in the matter. I almost wonder if I have brought this upon myself, what with starting a blog dedicated entirely to low points. I jinxed myself for eternity.
So that’s cool.
Today I went clothes shopping after work. It was a fairly unexciting trip to the department store; I’d actually already purchased some pants and was
deluded into optimistically thinking I could purchase a size down. Btw, I was wrong. So I grabbed a few other items in a too small size (thus securing some low self-esteem that will definitely be made better by fast food tonight) and headed into the dressing room. Going into a dressing room with unpurchased clothing is a normal thing. For all intents and purposes, I shouldn’t even be writing about a low point (because, trust me, I understand that my sadness over gaining weight because eating a lot and not exercising unfortunately doesn’t maintain like it did when I was, oh, 22 is not actually a low point you’d want to read).
As I was standing there in a shirt, putting on a skirt, It happened. And before you think I’m drawing things out over something wasn’t really that low, I assure you, it was. I might as well just get it over with. So. *deep breath here*
A grasshopper fell into my hair.
A grasshopper. It fell. It fell into my hair.
I should really specify right now that actions like this, on the part of insects worldwide, are completely unacceptable under all circumstances. But I suppose I’d be far less traumatized about a grasshopper in my hair while I’m out camping in, say, a grasshopper-run campsite than in a department store dressing room.
I was partially unclothed. I was really vulnerable.
Shockingly enough, I didn’t scream. Not once. I did my heebie jeebies dance and I whispered out some expletives (living in a place like Utah kind of fosters an immediate whispering of expletives so as to not offend literally everyone around you) and I gathered up my remaining too small clothes and moved myself into another dressing room RIGHT QUICK. But no screaming. And when you think about it, that was a completely scream-worthy event.
Imagine if a seagull had swooped in.