My, Oh My

It's August 15th. 

Summer is over. 

My, oh my, where'd the months go?

My younger sister started her dual enrollment at the local technical college this morning. My younger brother starts his freshman year at the Citadel this weekend. I start my senior year next week. 

My, oh my, where'd the years go? 

I guess all we can do is honor God with our hours, and trust Him in the moments, because He sees the years behind us and the years before us. 

Those years are made of months, weeks, days, hours, and moments. 

Live them well.

It's Official: I'm a Bug Murderer

So, I've got a story for y'all.

But first, the back story.

So, I'm a really heavy sleeper.

I've slept through alarms going off, trees falling down in our yard, stuff like that.

However, it takes me a really long time to actually fall asleep.

If I listen to soundtracks of thunderstorms and rivers and stuff, that usually knocks me out, but I either need to be sick and exhausted or listening to something like that to fall asleep.

Well.

Last night, there was this bug - my first guess was a cricket - making a constant, high-pitched droning noise outside my window last night, and it was driving me crazy.

It sounded like it was right there, so I opened my door and slammed it shut really hard.

The noise stopped for a while but then started again.

So I slammed my window shut again, and it stopped and started again, so I figured it was right there.

I really didn't want to get up, but I did, and went out in the living room to see if my dad was still up. He wasn't, but my brother was. He asked what I was doing and I told him about the cricket. He just stared at me and said, "So your plan is . . . what?"

And I says, "To kill it."

So I got a broom and a flashlight, went outside, and sure enough, there it was, about two feet from my window.

I went ahead and killed it mercilessly and went back inside.

My dad was still awake and asked if I had been the one outside with the flashlight. I said yeah, and he asked what I was doing.

I told him, and he laughed at me.

Ha.

Well, at least I was able to sleep.

I am a horrible person . . .

So, I have a betta fish.
My parents bought him for me as a prize for losing 10 pounds. (My choice of prize.)
I named him Tikitikitembonosorembocheriberibuchipipberipembo.
Pembo for short.
I clean his tank once or twice a week, right?
No mishaps so far, right?
HA.
WRONG.
Today I almost murdered him by boiling him alive.
Bettas like warm water.
I washed his tank in hot water in an effort to kill germs.
So far, so good.
I put the solution in the water that makes bettas happy.
Still 10-4.
Then . . .
I was making lunch at the same time and forgot how hot the water was.
I went ahead and plopped him in.
He seemed to be enjoying it.
I turn around not a minute later and there he is . . .
. . . floating belly up.
Needless to say, I freaked out.
I'm rather attached to that little guy . . . my younger brother makes fun of me for talking to the fish.
I just think it would be rude not to. I mean, he is, like, right there the whole time . . .
I scooped him out and dropped him into some cooler water, and the poor guy looked like he was panting.
I felt like a horrible person.
He did perk up later . . .
And I think he's forgiven me forgotten about it, so all's good.