I have been tending to the pond lately, and recently added a lily pad to the pond to grow over the summer. If you don’t know this yet, this is a big deal for me. I’m highly disgusted by even the thought of fish, and have finally gotten used to the idea of having fish within ten yards of my house. Putting the lily pad in the pond requires that I put my arm in that dirty fish water all the way up to my elbow. Blugh.
My mother, Ethan and I were tooling around the garden this morning when I decided to check out the pond. The filter, which I have been fighting with all spring, wasn’t pumping water at the volume it is set to pump, so I leaned over the edge to see what was wrong.
The filter was clogged up with what looked like a large, fine piece of black and white lace.
I stupidly reached in the pluck it off of the filter when I realized I was touching EGGS! EGGS!
HOLY FUCKING SHIT THERE WERE EGGS IN THE FUCKING POND AND I WAS TOUCHING THEM!
Mom and Ethan thought it was hilarious to see me dance, hop, squeal, and gag all over the backyard, but it’s not fucking funny. I’m going to think about those stupid fish, frog, or whatever eggs all goddamned day.
I may very well throw up.