Nightmare Fodder

So this evening, I finally washed the dishes that shamelessly accumulated in my kitchen sink. It was time. Minding my own business, enjoying the awesome breeze that filters in through my kitchen window, I scrubbed and rinsed, scrubbed and rinsed, scrubbed and...WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!

I lifted a mug and out scurried a huge creature I couldn't identify! It was a bug, but a HUGE one. Something like a silverfish crossed with a centipede mated with a prehistoric, well, dinosaur bug. Being the girl I am, I screamed and tried to soap it to death. Not deterred by my suds, I squirted Purell in its general direction. That slowed him down a bit, giving me time to dash to the bathroom and grab the hairspray. I cornered him (significantly hampered by the antibacterial blast) and hairsprayed him to the counter. He was gross. He had antennae and beady eyes. And, like, a horn. Yeah, a horn. The fodder of nightmares!

Of course, I didn't have any actual bug killer on hand, so after the hairspray dried and preserved my intruder for eternity, I whisked him off down the drain...and then ran the disposal...for 5 whole minutes.

I felt quite accomplished, that I killed The Bug all by myself. However, I don't think ladies should have to ever kill bugs. That's why we get married, right? It was precisely at this "buggy" moment that I severely missed Jack and his bug-killing capacities. He always kills the bugs at home (unless it's a big, furry bee, then he's shrieking alongside me). Don't even get me started about the one mouse who got in our house. Mickey got his foot caught in the trap and banged himself up against the cupboard door for a half hour before he finally met his Maker. Jack took care of that situation and I wish he was here to protect me from All Other Bugs. Because now, each time I see anything move or a piece of lint catches my eye, I'm convinced The Bug is back from the beyond.