He suddenly just showed up one night unannounced and uninvited in my daughter's dorm room and would not leave. Shortly thereafter the first of a series of late night panic stricken calls to me. All I could do was tell my daughter and her suite mates to report him to the college and let them take care of it. But being soft tender hearted girls they felt sorry for him. Where would he go, what would he do, what would happen to him. Against my wishes they adopted him. And so he stayed.
Henry they called him. An uneasy truce was established and he slept on the floor. His visit ultimately lasted a fortnight before he disappeared just as suddenly as he arrived. In letting him stay the girls all sincerely hoped he would behave himself. It wasn't long before it was clear he wouldn't.
The trouble started with little things. Making noise and keeping the girls up too late. Constantly rubbing himself all night long. He began provoking the hormone fueled agitation that is all too easily started when you are in close quarters with four post teen girls who squeal at the top of their lungs way more often than is absolutely necessary. But these young girls, who hadn't had a real job between them, lectured me on the necessity of compassion. Fine! They were all legally grown. Do as you please, I cannot stop you.
Finally we reached the final chapter of this episode. It occurred just before dawn one morning. My daughter's call woke me out of a sound sleep. Apparently, Henry just decided to wander into the bathroom while she was taking a shower. I was awakened just as little miss bossy was barking orders to Henry in the same tone she barks them to me when she is upset. The part of the exchange I heard was her telling him to get out of there now or she was going to "kill him dead"! The intensity in her voice made me believe she would do it. This from a child that stopped drinking milk because she thought it somehow hurt the cows. I think I talked her down but just barely.
She never talked to me about Henry after that. I assume that he found his way to his next destination shortly after that episode. I don't think she killed him. But I don't know that for sure and I never asked.
The last I heard about Henry was in an email from my child. I guess she needed to talk about it but didn't want to do it where I could say I told you so. To wit, I shall let you read for yourself:
*Male crickets rub their wings together to attract female crickets, and the result is the "chirping" noise we hear. Male crickets are equipped with their own built-in fiddle system, and both male and females have their "ears" in their front legs below the knee. Each of the male's wings has a rough surface on its underside — the file. In the same place on top of each wing is a scraper. The cricket rubs the scraper of either wing against the file of the other to make his music, or his mating call. This cricket music is called stridulation.
Crickets rest by day and become active at night. The warmer the weather, the more actively a cricket sings. But it won't sing on nights when the temperature is below 55°. *You can't always follow a cricket's sound; it can make its noise appear to be coming from somewhere else. For centuries, crickets have been kept as pets. Known as suzumishi in Japan, thousands are distributed in tiny bamboo cages each summer to help people forget the heat.
*Count the number of cricket chirps in 14 seconds. Add 40. The answer gives the exact temperature in degrees Fahrenheit! */[i just did it and it gave me 75. accurate!]/
That's my child, if you can't do anything about it analyze the hell out of it.
Make Me Rainbows
1 day ago