This post is going to be a little less introspective than the last, but maybe just as revealing.
I have always prided myself on not being one of those squeamish girls. We all know the type. The girl who jumps on a desk and hikes up her skirt whenever a mouse scurries by (yes, I have seen a grown woman do that. best day of my life). I have no problems dissecting a frog or a fetal pig and on one occasion picked up a black snake to show my (slightly less adventurous) inner city students.
I do have a couple standard phobias. I really don't like heights, especially if there's actually a physical possibility of falling - for example, the ferris wheel in Chicago was considerably more traumatizing than the Ledge at the top of the Willis (formerly Sears) Tower. I'm also not a huge fan of bats or rats (mice are ok, rats are not).
The latest inexplicable and frankly embarrassing phobia that I've discovered is of this little guy:
A few of these charming little creatures have found their way into our bathroom in the past few weeks. Not only are they actually very large bugs and ugly as sin, but they JUMP. I can't think of anything more terrifying while you're using the bathroom or showering than one of these jumping on you. I heard about the first one because Callie had strategically placed a toilet plunger over the cricket to keep it in place until we could get someone to kill it for us. After the first , she got brave and killed the next couple herself. I was sorely disappointed to learn that I am a little squeamish after all.
So. Roommate of the month award goes to my dear camel-cricket-killer-Callie.
And now the confession. A week or two ago as I was washing my face, I noticed a large blackish spot on the wall that wasn't usually there. When I put my glasses on and discovered what that blackish spot was (suddenly in focus and VERY close to my face)... I grabbed my toothbrush and avoided our bathroom for about 24 hours. I should have dealt with it, I know, but I just couldn't. Next time, Callie, I promise.