So it turns out that Michael broke a rib during his waterfall fall. And a week before our 2-month mark, I failed at the promise I made to his mother before we left. "Don't worry," I said. "I'll take care of him." Of course, Michael could easily have broken a rib in Los Angeles doing any number of crazy things. We are talking about the guy who managed to break his foot getting into a hot tub. At least his cell phone survived this time.
Still, it reaffirms my growing concern about the sinister forces of nature that surround us here. Around every corner, lurking in the shadows, nature stands ready to maul us. In addition to keeping Michael indoors from now on, I'm poised to wage my own war on nature. I'm calling the Orkin man.
One of our friends delighted in telling me about the horrors of various spider bites one can get in North Carolina. Then that same friend showed up later with a swollen arm where he had just been stung by a yellow jacket wasp. I don't care what it takes, but I don't want a single living thing to survive the mushroom cloud of toxins I intend to dump on our house and yard. Generations of bug witnesses will pass down tales of the holocaust at 157 White Pine Drive.
I know I'm supposed to be cutting down on the number of times I shake my fist at the dawn and make some solemn vow, but I'm not going to let nature break us, sting us or bite us. I'm going to keep Michael off the rocks and our lives free of bugs and bites and blight. Our first visitor arrives on Wednesday, which gives me plenty of time to fix everything, even a broken rib.
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