The story of Emily, Joanne, and the crickets...
...and me not actually losing my mind.
My sister Emily has a leopard gecko named Spike. Spike eats live crickets, which Emily would purchase in small lots from a pet store. I used to complain that it made no sense to buy pets for your pet.
Emily lived at home with me and my parents for a time, and therefore so did Spike and her crickets. One Friday, a cricket got out. Mom and Emily were away for the weekend on separate adventures, leaving my father and me home alone with a cricket in our living room that we got to listen to all. Weekend. Long.
Now, I have always loved the sound of crickets. I even enjoyed the sound of this rogue cricket for part of the weekend. But eventually it became utterly grating. So it was with some measure of relief that I left the house to go to work on Monday morning.
Sitting at my desk crunching through endless stacks of work, I heard a cricket. I froze, but heard nothing else, so kept working. Then there it was again: a cricket! The sound emanated from my coworker Joanne's cubicle to my left. My blood chilled. This was it. I had officially lost my mind. Nothing had ever worked yet but Emily's rogue cricket had finally driven me round the metaphorical bend.
I continued to hear the cricket off and on all morning. At last, at lunchtime, I had to check. If anyone else could hear it, they were showing no sign, but Joanne had to be hearing it if no one else was. "Joanne, do you hear" - gulp - "a cricket?"
"Oh, yes, it's my weather alert, I just set it up today, isn't it neat?"
The relief was immense. Joanne was a wonderful woman - always cheerful and capable of transmitting cheer to everyone around her - and was totally oblivious to my morning of distress. I began to laugh hysterically and she looked concerned. Sinking onto a chair, I explained to her why I thought I was losing my mind. Soon she was giggling along with me. She offered to turn off the cricket, but I assured her it was fine now that I knew it was not a hallucination.
The rogue cricket eventually either escaped or expired. Joanne got tired of the alert after a while. Still, when I listen to crickets, I think of this not-quite-insane story.
My sister Emily has a leopard gecko named Spike. Spike eats live crickets, which Emily would purchase in small lots from a pet store. I used to complain that it made no sense to buy pets for your pet.
Emily lived at home with me and my parents for a time, and therefore so did Spike and her crickets. One Friday, a cricket got out. Mom and Emily were away for the weekend on separate adventures, leaving my father and me home alone with a cricket in our living room that we got to listen to all. Weekend. Long.
Now, I have always loved the sound of crickets. I even enjoyed the sound of this rogue cricket for part of the weekend. But eventually it became utterly grating. So it was with some measure of relief that I left the house to go to work on Monday morning.
Sitting at my desk crunching through endless stacks of work, I heard a cricket. I froze, but heard nothing else, so kept working. Then there it was again: a cricket! The sound emanated from my coworker Joanne's cubicle to my left. My blood chilled. This was it. I had officially lost my mind. Nothing had ever worked yet but Emily's rogue cricket had finally driven me round the metaphorical bend.
I continued to hear the cricket off and on all morning. At last, at lunchtime, I had to check. If anyone else could hear it, they were showing no sign, but Joanne had to be hearing it if no one else was. "Joanne, do you hear" - gulp - "a cricket?"
"Oh, yes, it's my weather alert, I just set it up today, isn't it neat?"
The relief was immense. Joanne was a wonderful woman - always cheerful and capable of transmitting cheer to everyone around her - and was totally oblivious to my morning of distress. I began to laugh hysterically and she looked concerned. Sinking onto a chair, I explained to her why I thought I was losing my mind. Soon she was giggling along with me. She offered to turn off the cricket, but I assured her it was fine now that I knew it was not a hallucination.
The rogue cricket eventually either escaped or expired. Joanne got tired of the alert after a while. Still, when I listen to crickets, I think of this not-quite-insane story.