Sometimes in the summer, crickets invite themselves into my house, uninvited.
It happened again last night. Its shrill chirping sound appeared so loud in the silent night that I was wakened up. Unable to fall back to sleep, I angrily got up and decided to play a hide-and-seek game with the cricket in the middle of the night. I spotted its hiding location by listening to when it stopped chirping at my approach. With a piece of paper in hand, for swatting in case I could spot it, I ventured toward the target. The sound stopped. I retreated back a step. It came back on. I stepped crisscross in all the directions, forward, backward and sideways. The sound stopped and appeared, repeatedly, coordinating with my every move. Ten minutes later, its singing seemed from every corner, making me lost my sense of direction. I cursed under my breath, “Damnit! Not a good time to play hide-and-seek. Would you please shut up? I’ll have a full schedule tomorrow.” Meanwhile, I begged silently, “You’re welcome to sing anytime during the day. Just not now. Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase!”
After many unsuccessful attempts, I instead found two earplugs to insert into my ears to help me get through the night. The cricket was still making the annoying cheep sound, cheerfully, when I woke up this morning.
