You Reap What You Sow

It reared its ugly head yesterday. But this is only the beginning. There will be more problems when the six, huge blueberry bushes start to yield fruit.

It goes like this.

Every year when husband starts turning over the garden, I remind him that a garden is fine, but this is his hobby and not mine. I do not like bugs. I detest bugs. If I find one crawling on me I freak. Therefore I won’t “pick” a damn thing from the garden ever.

I will not enter into the fencing surrounding the garden even if a hundred dollar bill is pinned to a tomato plant.

It is off limits to me due to my fear of bugs. I refuse to willingly and with sound mind and body, enter into an enclosed space teeming with bugs. I don’t even like the things I think are bugs that turn into small leaves sticking to my leg. I still shiver and freak out…even after I know it’s not a bug.

I’ve got a big bug phobia and that’s that. So bug off on getting me to pick vegetables…I’m not doing it.

Once, a bug of some sort fell down my blouse and onto my body. I couldn’t find it. I started ripping clothes off like a stripper on a timer. I didn’t care that friends and relatives were able to see parts that had never before been exposed to their wide open eyes. If I hadn’t found the damn thing when I did and where I did, I would have kept tossing off clothing until I was buck nekkid.

Modesty goes out the window when a bug flies down your blouse..or my blouse that is…

Every year husband forgets how much distaste I have for anything that resembles gardening due to the bug fear factor.

I love flowers. I’d love to plant more and have a cutting garden, a perennial garden and an annual garden. If this could be done without coming across a single bug – I’d do it. But, it can’t – so I give up the joy of having a flower garden to protect myself from coming across a bug, that might crawl up my leg or down my front and cause me to take it all off, until I can find it.

So yesterday he says: The lettuce is ready for picking. Can you pick some tomorrow?

What?

Yet again, we have the “it’s your hobby” talk and while I’m at it I remind him not to pick and instantly dump into the sink. When he does this the bugs are all over the sink.. Earwigs, that make my skin crawl and light green things that hop and have eyes big enough to stare me down. Yuck

I hope husband understands, especially after last night’s “chat” that I mean what I say.

He’s got to reap what he sows, because I’m not.