"Why would anyone other than the errant spider or ant quiver at the thought of the bug lady coming?" you might ask. It's all been about bad circumstances and crappy timing, that's why. The first embarrassing situation with her was at our old house. I was upstairs dressing and before I knew it, the Mister had brought her into our bedroom. I didn't even know that she had arrived yet. There I stood in my skivvies and there they were - the Mister with an "oh yeah....the wife is gonna kill me" look on his face and the bug lady looking like I wasn't even there. I think it would have been less mortifying if she would have reacted like most people act when they accidentally see one of their clients in their underthings - you know...embarrassment and shock and apologies. Instead she looked at me like I was a piece of furniture. A piece of furniture that probably would have worn a nicer bra if I'd known that she would be coming through all peek-a-boo.
The second experience with her was here at our new house. Up until that visit by her, I had been avoiding her - even leaving the house when she came. A couple of times, I'd go up to Sonic and sit until the Mister gave me the "all clear" because I was still so humiliated by her seeing me getting dressed at the old house. But this time, I decided that I was just going to do it. By God, I was going to stay in my home while she was here! That morning I stood at the kitchen sink like I owned the joint. She walked in the back door and took one look at me and says, "Wow! Congratulations!" I was completely stumped until I saw that she was staring at my stomach and lo and behold, she obviously thought that I was ripe with a little baby Kitsch.
I managed to stammer something about how I was only pregnant with too many grilled cheese sandwiches and scampered out of the room and confined myself to the back bedroom where the kitties were being cordoned off for her arrival. I was left weighing which situation with her so far had been more yucky. Since most non-pregnant women don't particularly like it when their stomachs are assumed to be packed full of another human person, I reasoned that we had finally topped the "hey! this is me in my bra!" incident. Besides, she'd seen me in my underwear - how could she think that I was pregnant when she intimately knew my body type?! I carry weight in my midsection. She knows that!
After she left, I remember blabbering painfully to the Mister about "Can't a woman just stand at her own sink? Can't she stand in her own bedroom in her bra? What do I have to do around here??" In fact, every time that she's set to come, I go off the rails on a crazy train. And that brings us to our third experience. This one is also twice as mortifying as it should be because she never acknowledged that it happened. When she came to spray that time, it was raining outside and she couldn't do the exterior. She did the inside of the house and said that she'd be back one day during the week when it was drier outside to do the exterior. Fine...whatever. Except for after she left, I wasn't thinking about her coming. It completely slipped my mind. So as one normally does on the average weekday, I was busy doing this: