I’m going to start this story at the end and work my way back. Everyone ready? Here’s how it ends:
I saw a 3-inch cockroach in the ladies’ room at work on Tuesday. On the sink.
Now, I know you’re probably busy and may have read that quickly without really think about it, so I’m going to need you to back up for a second and really dwell. A cockroach. The size of a deck of cards.
On the bathroom sink that you use multiple times a day and have done so for almost nine months.
Is your face contorted in disgust and horror? Ok, now we can proceed.
I’ve mentioned before that cockroaches are my greatest phobia, but I feel like you probably thought I was kidding around. I mean, sure, no one loves cockroaches or spiders or camel crickets or what have you. It’s not that big of a deal.
You guys. It’s a very big deal.
It had been a long time since I’d seen a roach, and I’d kind of started to think I was a little bit over it. I would mentally imagine what I would do when I found one, and I would genuinely think, “Ok, it would suck. But you would handle it. I mean, you handled the centipedes. You would figure it out.”
Well, if Tuesday’s experience taught me anything, it’s that I am not equipped to handle it.
I literally froze and gasped when I first saw the semi-sized bug crawling near the faucet. Then I simply fled. I may have blacked out for a second.
As I made my shaky way to two of my coworkers, one of them went, “You look really rattled, are you okay?”
Nope. No, I was not.
I explained what happened the best I could, but I could barely put the words together. They heard “cockroach that is three inches long,” though, and quickly jumped into action.
I kept trying to explain why I was freaking out so much, but then promptly burst into tears. While still laughing about it at the same time.
If I’d committed a crime right then, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten of with an insanity plea.
Anyway. My coworkers apparently got someone I take care of it. I left work partly because it was about time to go, and partly because there was no way I was getting anything accomplished at that point.
Now I just can’t use that bathroom without feeling deeply uncomfortable and trying to check every corner, surface, nook and cranny while simultaneously, you know, using the bathroom. (I tried yesterday…it didn’t go we’ll.)
When I got home from work, I told Joey the worst thing in the world had happened to me that day.
Without missing a beat, he went, “Oh, you saw a cockroach?”
That’s why I love him.
So there you have it. I am not over it. And I may actually have to burn my apartment to the ground if I ever find a cockroach in it.
Please tell me you also have bizarre phobias I make myself feel better?