If you ask anyone that knows me, they’d tell you I suffer from a touch of entomophobia. (I’m a bit scared of bugs.)
To give you a better idea…
- I’m that girl that embarrassingly screams and flails her arms at a chill summer BBQ when a bug flies by my ear.
- Before I had my stud of a husband to handle my bugs for me, I would sleep in a different bedroom altogether if I found a big spider, wasp or unidentified bug in my room… even if the different bedroom didn’t have a bed…
- Since most bugs are attracted to light, I literally DO NOT use my porch ceiling light from May-September to avoid walking through flying insects as I enter and exit the house. I also shut off the overhead light in my car from May-September for fear of something nasty slipping in while the door is open…
So yeah, I have issues.
My mom used to describe it as a love/hate relationship. I’m terrified of them being on my skin or in my hair* but at the same time I’m fascinated by them. I even like looking at them… with a barrier of glass or netting between me and the bug, of course.
As far as extermination goes, I’ll kill most spiders and ants smaller than my fingernail. I won’t go near flying insects or anything that can jump unpredictably. If I can, I’ll trap the entom-offender (see what I did with that prefix?) under a drinking glass and leave it for Matt to exterminate. On a really bad day in the summer when the doors are opening and closing all day, Matt may come home to three or four bugs enclosed under these makeshift bug traps.
In a particularly embarrassing recent episode, I came downstairs with Harrison at 3am because there was a bug in his crib. I woke Matt up to handle it, and he begrudgingly followed me upstairs with a drinking glass and piece of paper (who said my method of trapping wasn’t genius…). Upon closer scrutiny, Matt determined that the entom-offender (ha, again) was really a small sticker that had fallen off my shirt when I laid H in his crib. Yes, I woke him up for a sticker. At 3am. He definitely made fun of me for a few days, but I think he’s since forgotten about it… until he reads this. Oops.
So that’s my story about bugs. And me. About bugs and me. I started this post after spotting a ridiculous-looking bug on my front porch that I later identified as a male whitespotted sawyer. Go ahead and Google it. I’ll wait.
Okay, how disturbing is that?! That antenna! You’re welcome for not letting that pop up in your news feed. After reading “when improperly handled, the whitespotted sawyer may nip and draw blood,” I had Matt handle it. I can now enter and exit the house as I please, without being attacked. Until the next one pops up.
I bet you had no idea someone could ramble on for so long about bugs. What’s your stance? Love ‘em or lose ‘em?
*I have had bugs in my hair. One night during high school, I threw my ocean-soaked wet hair up into a messy topknot and headed out the door to hang out with friends. It was a summer night and I mistakenly walked through a swarm of Japanese beetles (the water-loving kind). I freaked out (of course) but went about my night. Later that night, when I returned home to shower, much of that swarm flew out of my hair when I let it out of the messy topknot. So yeah, now you know why I have issues.