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The Bug

Last night was going like any other night.  H goes to bed a bit before I do, so I was puttering about in my evening routine.  I have myself a mini pedicure, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and clean my face to find a beetle.  There was a beetle on the edge of the tub, near the wall.  My initial reaction was to make H do it.  Then I remembered he was sleeping and would not like to be woken unnecessarily.  I got up my gumption and I thought, “Oh, I can be bold and brave and grab it with a giant pile of toilet paper.”  To execute this plan I got an enormous gob of toilet paper in my hand and went to grab it.  I did, but didn’t grip it enough, due to the paper size so the beetle fell into the tub.

Then it HOPPED!  It was not a cricket, it was a beetle, but it seriously thrust itself about a foot up in the air.  This freaked me out.  This freaked me out, badly.  Then I had to contend with this information mentally.  A hopping beetle in my bathtub.  From there I decided to drown it.  I took my glass and started pouring water on it.  It HOPPED again.  This time its legs started going all freaky.  Thinking about it gives me the heebie jeebies even now.

At this point I panicked.  I woke up H.  He then valiantly killed it with a shoe and flushed it down the toilet.  I used to kill bugs before I was married.  Now, no bug killing for me.  It isn’t very bold or feministy, but damnit, I didn’t want to touch the beetle.

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