I spent approximately thirty minutes of my Sunday night staring at a purse hung on a wall.
I was staring at the purse because I had to keep track of the cockroach that was hiding inside of it. I had watched with horror as it raped our entire apartment before flying into that bag. See the antennae? In real life they were moving, taunting me. I hid in the bathroom, peeking out from behind the door, keeping sight of those nasty antennae. I was armed with a shoe and a bottle of Windex in case that bug decided to make a move in my direction.
My 4-pound chihuahua hid in the bathroom with me. She crouched behind the toilet, shaking, with her tail between her legs. She had no idea what was happening, but she could tell I was scared and it left her just terrified. It was the saddest thing. I felt so ashamed for scaring her like that and I wanted so desperately to be a brave adult, but I was paralyzed by fear and simply couldn’t do it.
We stayed there until Husband came home and killed the bug. He is my hero, MY HERO, THE ONE WHO SAVED ME FROM THE BUG. And then I cried huge monster tears of relief. Up until that moment I had never realized just how terrified I am of roaches.
DANGIT FLORIDA AND YOUR FLYING MONSTERS.