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| Friday, October 1, 2004 03:44 PM |
| So I wouldn't be good for Fear Factor then |
| by poppy |
It's no secret to those that know me that I have a bug thing. As in, bugs make me run screaming (except for lady bugs which, despite being beetles, I will let crawl all over me if they so desire). It's not all bugs that elicit the screaming, but most will elicit the running. I have had a few particularly traumatic experiences with the bug world, which I will not recount here since invariably when I tell the story people cringe and say they wish I hadn't told them. Suffice it to say I think I'm justified.
One particular fear I have, and one that does not seem to have a traumatic experience attached to it, is of spiders. Can't stand 'em. The only good spider is a dead spider. Please no one tell me about how great spiders are, how they eat the really nasty buggies, how they don't hurt you. I don't care. If it was wholly rational it wouldn't be a phobia. I do not, however, relish in killing them. My massage therapist told me a while ago that the Buddhist monk she meditates with told her that if you consistently kill bugs in anger, you will have a child whom you will feel the same revulsion towards as said (now dead) bugs. Not quite the reason why I don't like the killing, but the spirit is the same. For this reason I have Feanor do the bulk of the slaying.
I wouldn't mention this except that I believe the spider world has an extensive plot going at the moment to drive me out of my mind. There are spiders everywhere. At least once a day I have to call Feanor into some room of the apartment for a slaying. Got a birthday present from my parents, and what was hiding in the tissue paper? Big hairy spider. And then there's my car. I have to park under a nice big tree out front, and my car has become a spider playground. This would be fine if they confined their partying to, say, the undercarriage. But oh no. They like the car. Like tonight, one decided he really liked my cup holder. I almost had a coronary. Then as I leapt terrified from the vehicle, which luckily was not in motion at the time of my discovery, I notice that my back window was covered with spiders. Okay, there were three, but that's three way, way too many.
What's a girl to do? Not live in an f-ing old house surrounded by f-ing old trees I suppose. Sigh. A bit too late for that I think... any one want to trade apartments? |
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