Only I

Only I am an almost 30 year old who still sucks her old fashioned candy sticks (when she has an old fashioned candy stick which is next to never) into points. I happened to buy three of these for a dollar yesterday at Wheeler Farm and I happened to decide to eat mine this afternoon.

Only I have been obsessively awaiting the rebirth of our fifth and final caterpillar. Only I was starting to think that poor Prince Caspian was dead in there because our literature said between 7 and 10 days and it's been 13. Only I accidentally knocked the dish soap into the side of the net this morning, dislodging him from his vertical position and hurling him into a horizontal position on the floor of the enclosure. Only I was so concerned about this causing butterfly brain damage that only I have been watching his net like a hawk all day.

Only I went in to the kitchen to check on him for the 80,001 time today, saw a partial butterfly lying on its back, vigorously trying to free itself from any memory of being a caterpillar, and yelled for The Rock Star to come quickly. Only I declared, "I'm going to go get the video camera!" Only I turned to run up the stairs while holding the candy with the exquisite point on the end. Only I somehow managed to ram said candy halfway through the part of my face between my lip and my chin. Only I could do something so ridiculous. This stuff just happens to me.

Only I didn't bother to stop the bleeding until after I'd filmed the butterfly. Only I reached up when the rebirth was complete, touched my face, and pulled away fingers covered in blood. Only I, folks. And I'll be here all week.