There’s a reason people with good sense wear glasses when they ride their bikes. It prevents bugs from flying into their eyes.

Apparently, I don’t have good sense. Or at least I don’t have enough good sense.

Because I wasn’t wearing any  protective eyewear when I was out bicycling last week.

I was heading down a steep hill and into a blind curve when a gnat flew into my eye.

There was nothing I could do about it. Stopping on the narrow road with no shoulder would have been more dangerous than allowing the gnat to stay.

So I continued pedaling and focused my mind on other things. By the time I got home, I had almost forgotten about the gnat in my eye. Almost.

But that night, when I was taking my contact lens out of my red and puffy eye, the little bug made his reappearance – both literally and figuratively.

When I finally threw him away in the toilet, I realized how lucky I was.  Ignoring the irritation would never have made the problem go away. It would only have caused more harm.

My short-lived relationship with the gnat resembles my too-long relationship with the guy in the Oval Office.

They both arrived in my life unexpectedly and in the most unwanted manner.

My problems with then could easily have been avoided if  I, or others, had actually understood the danger they posed and acted appropriately to mitigate the potential disaster.

And even though ignoring them felt like the only way to keep my sanity, that’s never been an option.

Last Sunday, an old friend asked why I hadn’t been writing recently, I was honest when I said I’ve been busy and overwhelmed with work and other responsibilities. But that wasn’t the whole truth.

I’ve also been trying to ignore the ongoing barrage of embarrassing and disturbing news coming out of Washington DC.

But I can’t nor should I.

Instead, I’ll do what I can to cope and face the problem while doing my best to address it.

And hopefully, in the near future, the bug in the White House will be flushed out of Washington DC as efficiently as I  flushed the gnat out of my life.