"I need to sanitize my whole body."

If you've known me for any length of time, you are well aware that bugs are not my friends. You should also already know that we keep a fly swatter in our bathroom that we use to viciously attack any creepy-crawly intruders. (And by "we," I mean "Jacob," clearly.)

Now, rewind to last Monday evening. Jacob was at work and wouldn't be back until the following morning. I was getting ready for bed when I noticed some sort of winged insect crawling all over the wall next to my side of the bed.

We certainly couldn't have this. It's true that I occasionally refuse to enter certain rooms if I see a spider or other insect until Jacob gets home and disposes of them (just a few weeks ago, I opted out of breakfast because that would've required entering the kitchen, and a spider had staked its claim on the kitchen ceiling), but I couldn't very well stay up all night just to make sure the insect didn't eat me in my sleep.

I grasped the fly swatter, took aim, and smacked the insect -- right before I leaped back to make sure it didn't fall on my feet. And then when the insect was on the ground I doled out a few more beatings just to make sure it wasn't just playing dead.

When Jacob kills bugs, he usually flushes them down the toilet. I had thought about doing so, but then my conscience would've felt guilty for wasting water -- and sometimes bugs can be tricky and just float around in the toilet, requiring multiple flushes for proper disposal. And I don't know about you, but there's something very unsettling about exposing your nether regions to an insect carcass.

This is my very lengthy way of describing my thought process when I tossed the bug into the (admittedly full) trash can in the bathroom instead of the toilet.

All was fine and well until the following evening. I was in the bathroom when I thought I spotted a toenail clipping on the ground. I picked it up to toss it in the trash can.

YOU GUYS. It wasn't a toenail. Do you see where I'm going with this? It was the bug. I PICKED UP A DEAD BUG WITH MY BARE HANDS. (It was so harrowing that I need to WRITE IN ALL CAPITALS.)

Jibblies!