I'm pumping away in the bathroom at work minding my own business (gotta make the milk for the baybay), checking Facebook on my phone, switching to reading "Two Kisses for Maddy" when through my tears (sad, sad, sad book) I see movement on the floor. There is a bug. A really, big bug. The biggest motherfucking bug known to me and it has lots of legs, is big, scary and a bug.
*I would have inserted a photo of said bug, but you can look up house centipede on your own computer. I won't have it on mine. Just remember this was no ordinary house centipede, this was all the house centipedes' great-great-great grand-daddy and it was MAD.*
I freak out. It starts coming towards me. Slowly, like it's stalking me for its next meal. I jump up, but can't get very far. I'm tethered to my pump. By my nipples. I freak some more. I try to stomp on the ground to deter its progress. The bug gets closer so I jump up on a chair like some crazy housewife who just saw a mouse in her kitchen, but without the screeching in horror.* Of course the sane part of my brain says, "You know those things can climb walls. You don't think some chair leg is going to stop it, do you?"
Shut up, sane brain-part.
So, I do what any insane person would do. I blow at it like I'm trying to put out a birthday candle on its back. The bathroom cleaning gods must have liked me that day because I dislodged a bit of fuzz from some corner of the bathroom with my superpower breath and that fuzz caught the attention of the me-eating bug and it went the other way and eventually disappeared under the door. I pumped standing on a chair for 5 minutes while avoiding a mammoth, icky-icky bug.
Yes, I checked the walls, floor and door before I walked out of the bathroom to make sure he wasn't just waiting out there to ambush me.
I hate bugs and yes, I know I'm ridiculous.
*I show my fear by running away or going all "deer in the headlights" in total silence.
*I would have inserted a photo of said bug, but you can look up house centipede on your own computer. I won't have it on mine. Just remember this was no ordinary house centipede, this was all the house centipedes' great-great-great grand-daddy and it was MAD.*
I freak out. It starts coming towards me. Slowly, like it's stalking me for its next meal. I jump up, but can't get very far. I'm tethered to my pump. By my nipples. I freak some more. I try to stomp on the ground to deter its progress. The bug gets closer so I jump up on a chair like some crazy housewife who just saw a mouse in her kitchen, but without the screeching in horror.* Of course the sane part of my brain says, "You know those things can climb walls. You don't think some chair leg is going to stop it, do you?"
Shut up, sane brain-part.
So, I do what any insane person would do. I blow at it like I'm trying to put out a birthday candle on its back. The bathroom cleaning gods must have liked me that day because I dislodged a bit of fuzz from some corner of the bathroom with my superpower breath and that fuzz caught the attention of the me-eating bug and it went the other way and eventually disappeared under the door. I pumped standing on a chair for 5 minutes while avoiding a mammoth, icky-icky bug.
Yes, I checked the walls, floor and door before I walked out of the bathroom to make sure he wasn't just waiting out there to ambush me.
I hate bugs and yes, I know I'm ridiculous.
*I show my fear by running away or going all "deer in the headlights" in total silence.
