I fucking hate bugs. FUCKING hate them... I don't care if God made them, they're gross.
2003-12-29 - 10:33 a.m.
Tired. Up until two watching The Two Towers. Then, some putzing around on the computer. Then, I washed my face and, as I was hanging up the towel, I saw him... a fucking thousand legger bug. Oh, how I despise those things! So, I screamed for Bill, who didn't come and finally decided I was going to tackle the fucker. So, I went to get the bug spray, some paper towels, put shoes on my feet and rolled up my jammies. He was gone when I got back. So, I doused the bathroom in bug spray and stood outside of it for about an hour. I never saw him. Then, I went to bed and couldn't fall asleep because I felt him crawling all over me (even though my bedroom is a good thirty feet from the bathroom - that's the good thing about our place: the bathroom is tucked neatly in a corner down it's own hallway right off the foyer area; no seeing it (or it's contents) unless you need to). Then, Bill would come in and walk on me and I was convinced the bug had jumped on Bill and Bill just let him ride right into my bed. So, here I am, awake. I resprayed the bathroom, after taking about 15 minutes just to get up the courage to go in there. God, I hope Bill doesn't get sick from it... I still haven't peed in there - let's not talk about how and where I've emptied my bladder during the past 7 hours... I hope to God I don't have to doodie (or shower) until Booie comes home on the second. Is that safe???
