Bug girl

I’m scared of the basement.

I know, it’s such a silly thing to be scared of. The basement doesn’t house monsters; the boiler doesn’t make scary noises; and there are no robbers waiting down there to attack me.

But every time I go down to do laundry, I put on the heaviest pair of shoes I can find, grab a broom, and turn on every single light. I jump at the slightest movement, the piles of clothes shifting, my own shadow on the wall, anything at all down there. I am terrified.

Why?

These guys.

I can’t even stand looking at that picture.

Our basement gets them sometimes. They creep me out so much! The way they move, the way they suddenly turn lightning fast when you attack, and the screaming noises they make when you finally smash them. I CAN’T STAND THEM. I hate them more than I hate those damn earwigs. I found one on my pillow once, one humid summer. I didn’t sleep in there for a week, and never used that pillow again. I hate them.

What’s fucking hilarious is when they get into my apartment in Pennsylvania. My roommates are terrified of bugs. The teeniest beetle sends them jumping onto furniture, screaming like they saw somebody get murdered. I’m not exaggerating when I say that, I’ve watched them throw laptops, and jump on coffee tables and the kitchen counters over one of those little potato bugs.

While entertaining, that’s not the hilarious part. After the initial screaming, they scream for me to come take care of the problem. Me, who has to arm herself to go into the basement to do laundry. The girl who swings the vacuum cleaner tube at spiders like it’s a lightsaber, screaming DIE YOU BASTARD, DIE!!! Yep. I’m the bug girl.

I’m not quite sure how it got started. I think it’s because one of my friends used to hang around the apartment, and took care of the bugs. Then when they were gone, I had to step in and do it instead. And now for some reason, I’m the fearless one. I’m the idiot and slow for being a film major instead of business or science, I’m lame for not being a drunken slut, but if there’s a bug, it’s my job.

Why do I do it, then? Why do I go help them every time?

Simple. There is no way in heck I’m going to sleep with one of those centipedes running lose in this apartment. No way, not in a million years.

’cause for all I know, I’ll wake up with one of those on my face. *shivers*