I hate bugs.
I would rather have a root canal than see a spider. Not exaggerating. And I've actually had a root canal before.
So yesterday my job took me to one of the largest, oldest cemeteries in the state, Springdale Cemetery.
That place is practically ancient, and it gives me the heebie jeebies.
|Woods at the cemetery. Bugs live here.|
I went there last week to interview the general manager, and afterward, I had to get some photos for my article. Well, lo and behold, it was raining for the first time in ages. Extra creepy. I got one photo.
So yesterday I had to go back. It was super hot outside, and the manager and I bumbled along in a golf cart throughout the 239 acres of death. It's gorgeous there, don't get me wrong, but still creepy.
Now, I'm not allowed to be fearful on a story. I have to focus, get what I need to get and get done. (See carp story.)
Not the case yesterday. I screamed so much at every little bug that I think I terrified the man, and he works with dead people all day. That's no simple feat. And I got a pretty nasty bug bite on my foot, too.
But I would try to bounce back.
I'd be screaming one minute, and the next I'd be all "What was the thinking behind placing the pet cemetery off to the west of the ravine?"
At one point he was totally silent, and I thought it was because he was admiring the ethereal beauty of the cemetery. Wrong. He was watching me frantically shake leaves off my leg.
Professionalism at its finest.
Also, this weekend Tom and I will head to Springfield for the Illinois State Fair and to do some tourist stuff! I love mini weekend trips. They are the best.