Really Bugs.

I don't know what's happening, but as of late, the insects of the world have combined their forces in attacking me.

Twice now, I've gone to get into my car and drive away late at night only to find that a kamikaze moth has infiltrated the safety of my vehicle.  Moths are evil. I know this because they wait to make their appearance until I am already in motion, forcing me to swerve, slam on my brakes and shriek while I try to simultaneously roll down the window and direct it (via frantic hand motions) OUT.

Moths have scarred me for life.
One year at girls camp, there was a veritable infestation at Camp Koholowo. We'd find them in our bags, on our pillows and lying dead in piles around the cabin floor. Up until that point, I'd viewed moths as a less beautiful version of butterflies. Feeling very much like a moth myself in a world full of butterflies, I was determined to still love them despite their supposed unattractiveness.

That is until that first night when one of them kept flying into the light, causing a continual *plink*.. *plink*... *plink* and keeping my already frenzied mind from sleeping. That was when they morphed from something unappreciated to something inherently evil. It must have been bothering 'da twinneh' too, because she asked/pled with me to get up and kill the thing.

Being somewhat of the protector at the time (that or a glutton for punishment), I ventured out to do her bidding. Grabbing some spare toilet paper, I waited for the perfect instant to grab it and squish it between the folds.

What I did not realize regarding moths up to this point, was that they CRUNCH.

Feeling something 'crunch' between your fingers may very well be the worst feeling in the world. Beetles and moths are probably the worst offenders. I know because, as much as I tried to never again experience it, I crunched one recently by accident that had been attracted to the glow of my laptop during the night as I pulled it from my backpack. Thus, repressed childhood memories.

And apparently the ghosts of murdered moths past are coming back to haunt me. Along with their spider brethren.

I discovered one while opening my gifts at a bridal shower last weekend. I pulled out a salad bowl and some summer plates and found him waiting at the bottom of the sack. All I can figure is that he was either trying to kill me or steal my gifts, I can't be sure.

Either way, he waved his little pincher feet at me menacingly.

And then, yesterday when I came home to my apartment with arms full of groceries, a mini tarantula dropped out of no where and landed right on my hand.

It took all of the energy I possessed not to drop the load and jump backwards, which would have resulted in my death considering there was a railing and a three-story drop if I had done so. The best I could do was hold my breath and try to squish him with the only limb available, which happened to be a foot.

Which is rather hard to do when the spider in mention is a trick spider and can not only scurry up the door frame but jump fastastically.

I'm sorry to report that I didn't get him.
He escaped into his little hole to re-plot my doom.

And so I live in constant fear.
This is evidenced by the fact that the fiance's shirt lightly brushed my leg last night while watching TV and I jumped a mile, swatting whatever creepy-crawly I was convinced was there.

This is not good people. Not good.