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I find it.... amusing, I suppose, in a kind of shameful way, that I can deal with many things that other people either can't or don't - I've had my hands inside other living things, done surgery on eyeballs, performed laser surgery on my own hand, and shrugged off more bodily fluids than most people have to confront in a lifetime - but that the mere presence of a big, hairy, too-many-legged bug in my bathroom when my husband is out of the house will turn me into a shrieking, jumping, hysterical gurl, flailing ineffectually around with a flyswatter while shrieking 'DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!' in an embarrassingly shrill voice.
I *think* I killed it. As much as I want it to be dead, I don't want to get close enough to be certain.
I lack the chromosomes necessary to deal with things like this....
I *think* I killed it. As much as I want it to be dead, I don't want to get close enough to be certain.
I lack the chromosomes necessary to deal with things like this....
no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 03:56 am (UTC)since
Date: 2011-10-05 07:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 12:03 pm (UTC)In a nutshell, it's either call for me STAT, or if I'm not there, brain it with a shoe.
Must be something about vets.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-05 04:11 pm (UTC)