I have an overwhelming fear. I cannot stand insects, bugs, spiders, critters with more than four legs, or wings, or bug eyes - yuck. Yuck, and again I say yuck. Something happens to me physically when I encounter one of these creatures. I become incredibly tense - especially in the shoulders - I make strange, guttural noises, and my eyes quadruple in size. I literally become scared stiff and I have a hard time moving, speaking, etc.
I recently made light of my sister's situation as we spoke on the phone a few days ago. She was chatting away, telling me about life in Oregon, when her voice dropped about four octaves, and she let out three throat noises that I couldn't spell out for you here if I tried. I heard my nephew start crying, then I heard her say, "I'm sorry Travis, Mommy freaked out about a fly and it scared you too, I'm sorry." A fly. I wish you could have heard her noises. Then you would laugh, for one, but you would understand the type of fear I'm talking about here. My sister apparently inherited the same trait. (But I don't know if I would freak out about a fly.)
I have really been enjoying our weather here in NoDak lately. High 60s, low 70s, lots of sunshine - just beautiful weather. I try to take long walks around the neighborhood each evening to take advantage of the temps and the sunshine. We get locked up for some pretty long winters, so it's hard to stay indoors these days! Tonight was no different for me. I trekked a long way around the neighborhood until I could hardly feel my legs anymore. I came home, was zapped of energy, and Extreme Pita sounded better than cooking.
Brent and I enjoyed some Philly Steak pitas with veggies and sauce, and Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips. (Can I get an "amen" for how tasty those are?!) We headed back home and caught up with our e-mail and twitter before it was time to get some housework done. Brent started organizing the office and I decided to tackle the bathroom. I don't understand how the smallest room in the house requires twice as much cleaning, three times as often. I digress....
I had scrubbed the toilet bowl and got down to my knees to wipe the base of the throne - which is apparently a magnet for dust and hair. Dis-gust-ing. I had to maneuver to really get back there, and my face was all but touching the toilet. That's when I saw it.
It was dark, hairy, winged, and struggling.
"OH MY GOODNESS. (throat noise, throat noise, cough)" That was my best attempt to communicate to my husband what I was really wanting to say which was, "Get in here and kill this thing immediately!" I don't remember how I got from my knees to my feet, and have no idea how it could have happened as quickly as it did.
Brent has been around me enough times to know my, "It's a bug!" cry. He sauntered in to the bathroom and said, "What is it?"
"I think it's a bee!" As I struggled to move my legs to walk myself out of the direct path of the thing, and get as far away as I could.
"Where is it?" He couldn't see it. I had to muster up enough strength to walk back inside the bathroom, extend my arm to point, and try to verbally communicate, "It's there on the bowl right at the base of the lid." Of course it came out, "There, (throat noise, throat noise) RIGHT THERE!"
"Oh yep, sure enough. It's a bee." (Squish) "And now it's dead." With that, he went back to the office to finish tidying up.
I, of course, began thinking, "Is there a hive in my wall? How did it get in? Are there more? Where did it come from? How did it end up on the toilet I JUST cleaned?" I stood trying to regain my cleaning composure. I resumed cleaning, but moved on to the shower. Everything that brushed against me, or that I thought I felt, made me gasp. Every time I felt something on me, I thought it was a bee. I will most likely have a hard time getting to sleep tonight. Brent has probably already forgotten he even killed a bee in the bathroom tonight.
Yuck. Yuck, and again I say, yuck.