I don't like bugs.

Nope. Don't like 'em.

I'm terribly ashamed of the fact that I'm scared of bugs. Outside? Not really a problem. But inside? They make me uncomfortable. Heebie jeebies. I avoid them. Once there was a spider hanging from the ceiling during my shower, going up and down on her little thread. And I was okay with her as long as she'd stay up in that corner, but when she dropped down, I'd get all creeped out, and anxious, and hold my arms all close in front of my chest with my hands in fists like a cartoon scared lady. For the most part I'm cool with spiders; I just leave them be. We get these little strawberry root weevils in our house all summer; I can ignore them or flick them away. But still, I don't like them. Centipedes are the worst. So fast and crawly!! I remember in college when I lived in GDD we got these boxelder beetles that freaked me out so much... they wouldn't die if you smashed them, or they'd make a loud sound.... When I was a little girl I used to wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares about ants or bugs crawling everywhere, and I'd want to go to my parents' room but I was too scared to put my feet on the floor because I was convinced it was covered in crawling things. I would lie there paralyzed by my own imagination. It was terrible.

Don't like bugs. Am a scaredy wuss.

This morning I was getting ready to go teach WW, first classes of the session, trying to plan and head out early, when I noticed the HUGE COCKROACH IN OUR HALLWAY.

Ah! Ah! Fuck! Fuuucccck!! Ahhhhhhwwwoooooowwahhhhh!! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!.... Fuck!

I think it's a cockroach, but it was black and not reddish. It was about two inches long. If we have roaches I'm going to die. I almost left the house right then, trying to convince myself that nobody would care if I didn't brush my teeth today. But I didn't want this stupid bug to have control over me, and I wanted to be a grownup and responsible and not a scaredy chicken shit, so I waited for it to crawl past the bathroom door and went in, and brushed my teeth, looking back at it the whole time. But then it stayed in front of the door, and I had to leave, I didn't want to be late, but I was all riled up and scared feeling and couldn't leave the fucking bathroom and I was so mad at that little fucking bug and my stupid scared fucking self. I waited for it to keep walking, and it did, and I could finally get past it. I knew I should kill it. I didn't want to leave and spend the rest of the day and night and tomorrow and tomorrow wondering where it was, waiting for it to crawl on me. I wanted to be tough and not scared but the truth is I was REALLY SCARED and angry and all worked up, and kept convulsing into a little ball when I tried to get my nerve up.

I finally took the big stack of magazines on our coffee table and when it was in the corner I dropped them on it. I yelped and jumped away. Good job scaredy me.

Does anyone want to clean up a big stack of magazines? There happens to be one in the corner by my bathroom. It might be there for some time.

I was totally shaken up and must have looked like a crazy person walking to my car, twitching and shuddering and talking to myself and trying to calm down but failing. Furiously embarrassed by myself. What a way to start a new session of classes.

Ah fuck! You fucking bug! You make me into a ridiculous girly twit! I hate you! I hate you, adrenaline! I hate you, phobia! I hate you, overactive emergency response system! I hate you, ceaseless fearful imagination! Get it together! This is not who I want to be!