Day 26: Something (I) Don’t Like
Oh my goodness, where to begin? I don’t like change, I don’t like people who are mean, I don’t like deployments or war. I don’t like asparagus, I don’t like New Year’s Eve and I’m not particularly fond of St. Patrick’s Day, though I do like the color green. I don’t care for “the great outdoors”, but I don’t like staying in all the time. I don’t like to workout, but I like the feeling I get when I’ve done it. I’m not really a dog person.
I don’t like heights, swimming under water, new places or driving on the interstates. I don’t like lizards when they move, or frogs that touch me. I don’t mind blood (in low quantities), or urine or feces, but don’t sneeze on me or let snot run down your face. I don’t do snot. It’s just gross. Don’t snot near me, please! I gag. I’m not kidding.
I don’t like most bugs, I fear confrontation and I don’t like when I’m not included. I don’t like being alone and I fear dying at a young age. Specifically being murdered. I don’t like trying new things and loud places with lots of people make me really anxious. I don’t like doing something new for the first time without my husband because most people don’t like to display patience in my presence.
I’m afraid of most men, irrationally so, and I’m very easily intimidated by nearly anyone in an authoritative role.
I’m pretty sure all of this pales in comparison to one particular phobia. Something I don’t like so much that even a quick Google search causes a serious physiological reaction.
Even just looking at images of creepy, crawly arachnids causes my throat to get tight, I start itching all over and get queasy and lightheaded. Just writing this gives me the jeepers and is totally not cool. I’m okay with the cutesy cartoon spiders near Halloween, but if ANYTHING with more legs than a dog comes into my house, it dies. Nearly always at the hands of my husband, but lately I’ve had to use his sandals. If I use mine, they become contaminated and I’d have to buy new ones. I have a hard time wearing shoes that have killed a spider. It’s a weird fear that it’s not really dead and will crawl around the edge of the shoe and bite me or something.
Yes, I understand that NONE of this is rational, but until spiders go extinct, I’m gonna continue to loath them entirely.