A Week of Oddments

Oddment.  I like that funny old-fashioned word.  It means something leftover or unusual.  Or even both of those.  This has been a week of oddments.

Oddment was in the title of one of the books that I bought at the library booksale last week.  Turns out, when everything was totted up, that I had purchased 22 books and 53 magazines.  I've already read a couple of the books and, in a true tour de force, I listed all of those magazines on eBay in one 24 hour listing frenzy.  I don't think I've ever listed so much so fast, and it was a good thing, too:  one of the magazines was a "holy grail" find.  I knew it when I saw it.  It sold within hours for $30.  The others will sell in due time.

Oddments.....my fantasy baseball team did surprisingly well this week but especially today.  With my scores from yesterday, I came in at 11th today in a field of over 700, and I was first in my league, too.  (If you wanna know more, read Batter Up! or The Boys of Summer.)  It's my 15th year having a fantasy baseball team, and I still know next-to-zero about the game but it's just such a pleasure, and I relish the rare days when my Pearl River Panthers score well.

Oddments.  Some oddments are Not nice.  I had one of those a couple of days ago and have still not entirely properly recovered my nerves.

I was perfectly happy reading one of the Mitford novels in the basket chair that is in a corner of the blue room.....when I felt a little thump! on the back of my neck.  Couldn't imagine what it was.  Reached around back there and felt something hard and almost stick-like in my thick Irish hair so I flipped my hair forward to try to shake the mystery off my head.....whereupon, the thing fell off my head, down my blouse, and into my brassiere.  I looked to see what it was.  Then I was hollering to God for help at the top of my lungs and ripping off my clothes.

It was a creature that I hate more than any other in the world. 

It was a big healthy one, fully three inches in length.  I was still half-nekkid when I trapped it and flushed it down the toilet.  Die, Evil Centipede, Die!  Only problem now is that I'm compulsively staring into the bowl every time I want to use the john because I'm afraid that the insect will crawl back out for revenge.  Aaarrrrrgggghhhhh!

When you live where I do, sometimes creepy crawlies are gonna get in the house; it's a fact of life.  I don't wanna think about it.....but I kinda can't stop.  Yuck.  Trying to convince myself that it's not as bad as the time I found a young water moccasin in my bedroom.    Oh my.

Oddments.  
Nice stuff.  Not-so-nice stuff.
Life is good, but I'd prefer it without centipedes, please.