Traumatized
The scar on my spi*** phobia got a little bit bigger last weekend. Let me share my trauma with all of you....
I stayed at Bruce's, and Saturday morning, I got up, put on my bathrobe, and went downstairs, intending to make coffee. On the way to the glorious nectar of the gods, I made a pit stop in le restroom. As I was sleepily standing in front of the sink, it felt like there was a hair or string from my bathrobe on my jaw, so I brushed at it, and dangled my hand over the sink to dust off whatever it was.
It was a spi***, about the size of a 50 cent piece from leg to leg.
As Bruce was still asleep, I didn't scream, merely whimpered in fear, then killed it dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead. I left the carcass in the sink for Monsieur to see - and his response? "Oh. That's the first one I've seen inside this year." DOOD. I'm TRAUMATIZED over here. It was on MY FACE.
Ok, can't talk about it anymore, I'm seriously starting to get the creepie crawlies.
I stayed at Bruce's, and Saturday morning, I got up, put on my bathrobe, and went downstairs, intending to make coffee. On the way to the glorious nectar of the gods, I made a pit stop in le restroom. As I was sleepily standing in front of the sink, it felt like there was a hair or string from my bathrobe on my jaw, so I brushed at it, and dangled my hand over the sink to dust off whatever it was.
It was a spi***, about the size of a 50 cent piece from leg to leg.
As Bruce was still asleep, I didn't scream, merely whimpered in fear, then killed it dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead. I left the carcass in the sink for Monsieur to see - and his response? "Oh. That's the first one I've seen inside this year." DOOD. I'm TRAUMATIZED over here. It was on MY FACE.
Ok, can't talk about it anymore, I'm seriously starting to get the creepie crawlies.