Ewww.

Last night at 4 AM, I awoke to a tickle on my neck. And as I lay there, I could feel the tickle moving. A bug. I reached up and grabbed it, expecting something small, maybe a winged thing, like a moth. But when I grabbed it, I could feel a body, and legs, and it was disgusting. I threw it away, into the dark, and then I lay awake, cowering, imagining the thing (I pictured a big-ass spider) crawling back toward me like some kind of heat-seeking missile. I was so tense I couldn’t really go back to sleep, but I didn’t want to get up and have to deal with it, either.

Finally, at 5 AM, I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I came back I turned the light on to make sure the bug wasn’t in my bed or even on the floor by the bed. No sign of a bug, and I relaxed and went to sleep.

Then tonight when I pulled up my bedroom blind to put the fan in the window, I saw a bug. A giant, six-legged, antenna-ed cockroach. It was much worse than I’d even imagined. That THING was crawling on my neck! Last night! While I slept! I can't really prove it was that bug, but what else could've woken me from a sound sleep?

I don’t have a bug phobia, and I’m not the kind of girl who can’t deal with the occasional necessary squish. But the thought of squashing that giant thing made me cringe. I would have rather left the room, or my house, and called some man to come over and deal with things. “No,” I said to myself, “You have to kill it.” I had to kill it. It was either him or me.

So, I went to the bathroom and got a giant wad of toilet paper. Enough so there was no chance of feeling a thing through the layers.

And I came back to the bedroom and squashed it good.

Then, after a quick glance to make sure it was squished—it was, and I’ll spare you the details—I ran to the bathroom and threw it in the toilet and flushed as fast as I could.

But it’s gone. Dead and flushed. And, God willing, that will never happen again (please).