I am afraid of bugs. Not lady bugs or house flies (although those are gross) and not even the stink bugs that have taken over parts of Maryland (because those are kind of cool looking). I'm talking BUGS.
Spiders. Centipedes. Millipedes. Creepy crawly things. Bugs. My heart beats faster, I get nervous, and, when coming upon one unexpectedly, I may or may not scream. Like a girl.
After breakfast this morning, the kids and I headed back upstairs so they could play and I could do some work. George was in the lead, followed by Clara, with be bringing up the rear to make sure my klutzy little girl didn't fall back down the stairs. Suddenly she stopped and said, "Ew mama. Buggity bug. Big bug." I look, and sure enough... centipede. Big one. Mean looking, too.
I hustled her up the stairs, grabbed the hose on the vacuum, and sucked the centipede up, proud of myself for actually addressing the bug on the stairs rather than making the kids remain on the third floor all day until Tom comes home to dispatch the bug.
A couple minutes later, I hear the kids shrieking gleefully. Turns out sucking a bug up doesn't kill it, and the centipede was scrabbling around inside the vacuum canister. Lovely. I put the vacuum in the main bathroom and shut the door. Tom will have to empty the canister when he gets home, and if the damn bug isn't in it he'll have to at least pretend to hunt it down for me.
Meanwhile, I'm laying here imagining I can hear its hundreds of little legs scritching around inside the vacuum, plotting its revenge for being sucked up. Perhaps it is sending telepathic messages to all its centipede friends... and I am not kidding when I say I will not sleep well tonight if I do not have definitive proof the damn thing is out of my house.
Aren't phobias fun?
No comments:
Post a Comment