That may come as news to some of the folks reading my blog, because as a rule, I try not to bitch about places. People live in those places, and inevitably someone gets offended. So if you live in the Low Country of the Carolinas (in North America), please stop reading now. And if you're easily offended by profanity, it'd probably be good to quit reading now, too. Though if you are I don't know what you're doing here anyway. I'm babbling. I babble when I'm pissed off.
This place is a damned swamp. What does "Low Country" really mean? SWAMP. They sell property here with 'marsh views' like THAT IS A GOOD THING. IT IS A BLOODY SWAMP, PEOPLE. My big beef with the whole swamp deal - other than major risk of flooding when tropical storms come through - is the FUCKING BUGS. I moved here from Hawaii. I'm used to cane spiders, and flying cockroaches, and rice beetles, and armored centipedes a foot long (uh, 20cm? about that), and scorpions. You know what? All that sounds like a lovely break from the unending parade of creepy-crawlies we get through here. Because here in this swamp, it's not about the size. It's about the VOLUME. The bugs get into EVERYTHING. I keep finding little almost microscopic beetle things in my yarn, my books, floating in my tea. We get hordes of anopheles mosquitos, you know, the ones that carry malaria, all over the place. We have banana spiders that make the husbeast scream like a girl and run for the blow torch.
Anyway. Anyway. Getting grip.
Today, I decided to do some baking. (Which is the trigger for the rest of this, though the cockroach later may have set me off, and I'm getting off track.) So I got into my pantry and pulled out the bread flour. You know, the SEALED UP bread flour, in the plastic container that SEALS because I've spent the last seventeen damn years in climates full of bugs and EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE that contains food is sealed or in the fridge (which counts as sealed). Opened the bread flour container.
Full of bugs. Little worms. Whole goddamn container was moving. Reminded me of a rather traumatic video I once watched in EMT class that was full of maggots, but on a smaller scale. Lovely. Out goes two pounds of flour, at least, and I'm now trying my baking experiment with all purpose flour. (If it works, I'll share the recipe. I'm calling it Lazy Brioche.)
Then, while stomping out here into the other room to type a long bitch about how living in a swamp SUCKS OOZING RAT ASS, what do I nearly step on but an inch and a half long cockroach that Sekhmet helpfully killed for me, laying in the middle of the floor.
I hate living in a swamp.