Nothing can reduce to me tears like a bug. Nothing. I can handle a lot. Go ahead, crap on my carpet. I'll probably be pissed, but I can deal with it and clean it. I have tackled Mt. St. Crapmore with raising kids and it does not phase me. I can handle the fastest roller coaster and if given the chance would love to bungee jump. If I didn't have children I even would love to try skydiving. That kind of fear, the fear of flying kind of fear, does not have any hold on me. It's the creepy crawlie fear that makes itches on my skin and will make me sure my house is infested with at least a dozen varieties of spiders. I HATE BUGS. No, that's too specific. I ALSO HATE WORMS, CATERPILLARS AND MOTHS. EEW, just typing them creeps me out. I realize this fear is irrational and unfounded. I have never been attacked by a moth, and no spider has ever put me in the hospital. I could handle the thought of a burglar lurking in the bushes over the thought of a maggot in my trash can. Perhaps I need some kind of therapy. Oh, what the hell, I know I need therapy. Grubs scare the shit out of me.
Perhaps at this point you are wondering why the hell I'm spilling my guts about my inner most baby with you? Well, I'll tell you. Some of you will poo poo me and say, "I always knew that Cat Jordan was a sissy". BUT, some of you will shudder with horror at the mental anguish you can imagine I am enduring. Go ahead, shudder now....in fearful anticipation.
Yesterday morning was an average morning. We were playing with the kids, having some coffee, I was working out the grumpies. I was walking down the hall when I noticed what looked like regurgitated black olive. Oh, you may think that sounds strange, but I'm not kidding when I say I've practically seen it all. I was muttering to myself "what the HELL" and planning to get a paper towel when I had two thoughts pop into my head. One: We haven't had black olives in over a week and, Two: It really looks more like a slug/worm kind of thingy that had exploded across the hallway. That second thought was upon closer examination and caused me to reel backwards and shriek out to Rob to get over here and look at this.
People, I recognize that bugs and caterpillars could conceivably get in a person's dwelling.... no big trauma. I just personally prefer someone else to deal with them. (I recall a few years back, frantically calling my sister-in-law, Kristen, to come and rescue me from a spider one day when Rob was working. She pleasantly assisted, and thank God, because if she hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to use my kitchen for the remainder of the day). One thing about this story might perk your interest, though, any thoughts? Ok, I'll tell you. It's FREAKIN JANUARY. Where in the name of cheese does a caterpillar come from in January??? Even after the thing was cleaned up I was feeling the buggy itches. I was turning on the hall light, the stairway light, the bathroom light. I needed to see every nook and cranny and decide if there were more of these THINGS lurking around. Rob and I could only think of one explanation. He had found one of Max's hats outside in the snowbank that had melted with our exceptional thaw this past week and it was soaking wet when someone threw it inside onto the stairs. I thought.. is it possible this creature came in with that hat that he had perhaps made his home? Rob concurred and I demanded he take the laundry downstairs and put in the load with the hat because the thought of going near it made me want to double my dose of Paxil for the day. So, today was the day I needed to tackle the rest of the laundry in that basket. I was nervous about it already as I walked downstairs, when, there, at the bottom of the steps something caught my eye. Want to know what it was? Another freakin worm thingy!!!!!!!!!!! I cannot tell you what happened to me this morning. My youngest was asleep and after pacing the family room about seven times, I wiped the tears away from my eyes and sweetly asked my oldest if he wanted to see a (gulp) cool worm thing. He said yes, indeed and came to attention. I then handed him a jar and the cat box scooper and said, "wanna scoop it in here for me?". He heartily agreed and when my tool didn't work so well, he used his fingers. It made me jump back in horror, but I never let him see me. You see, we bug-phobics have to keep it cool in front of our offspring.... I don't want to scar my little boy. I have to live with this debilitating fear myself, I wwould not wish it on anyone.
So, the thing is covered with a jar for hubby to inspect further and the laundry is going (thank God for Max's toy Robo-Arm, that came in handy transferring pieces of clothing into the wash) and I haven't seen anymore creepy crawlies yet. I don't know.... what can be done about my fear of teeny tiny critters? And don't tell me to watch more Fear Factor, because I think I will die.