Special to The Sun
What a week of accomplishments this has been for Jolly Old England, — the United Kingdom that gave us CNN’s Piers Morgan and more recently a royal baby to take our minds off the deplorable state of our nation as seen through that Brit’s leftwing eye. — has discovered a rogue Misery Molecule in the human brain, and that’s huge! It allows us to blame our stress, anxiety, depression and plain old cussedness on our DNA while we wait for a pill to cure it.
I guess ... but that’s what they’ve been saying about a cancer cure for as long as I can remember, so until I have that anti-misery pill in my hand, I’m blaming my angst on this household’s annual fruit gnat infestation.
Talk about stress! Why me, lord? Where did they come from and how do I get rid of them? I have friend-recommended gnat traps all over the house and Drano in every drain between here and the sewer, and still those persistent, irritating (swat!) droves of insects from hell have my own Misery Molecule in an uproar. Those buzzing (swat!) devils have been laughing at my eradication efforts all week and the stress is affecting every (swat!) aspect of my life.
Otherwise I wouldn’t have argued with my neighbor over whose green garbage bin I was rolling back to my house. You might know it would turn out to be his, but I still might have made it mine if I hadn’t discovered a green bin exactly like it already parked inside my fence, a cloud of gnats hovering above it.
I relinquished the neighbor’s bin without further argument, but the Misery Molecule angst continued so I turned out the lights early, and the gnats and the dog and I had retired to our separate beds when the phone rang. It was the tree service man — the one who calls me Hon, a moniker I detest even more than gnats — and I lost the last of my reasoning. Otherwise I like to believe I’d have had presence of mind not to walk, phone in hand, past the fully-loaded and ready-to-blast-off house security alarm on the wall to retrieve the invoice number he needed. I’d left it in the car — which was parked in the garage — beyond the primed and loaded utility room door leading out to it.
The Hon-talking tree man dropped the call when the alarm went off, and I all but hurt myself getting back to shut it down before it activated a real live policeman. My plan was to plead Gnat Insanity and throw myself on the mercy of the court. Any juror who’s ever been gnat plagued would vote for immediate acquittal.
MARJORIE ANDERSON is an Edmond resident.