Back today with another round of Me Monday!
This time around I’m going to be revealing a particular phobia that I have. It’s a little weird and perhaps a little silly… but it is what it is + I have valid reasons as to why I feel the way that I feel.
From the title you are probably thinking it has something to do with these:
(Mannequins. Lady Mannequins.)
Or perhaps her:
(Lady Gaga is terrifying here though, I’ll give you that.)
Or maybe even these guys, who knows:
LOOK AT IT – IT IS STRAIGHT UP THE CARNIVORE OF THE INSECT WORLD:
Yes. My fear is ladybugs. I’m getting all antsy just adding those pictures. Allow me to explain.
So when I was a kid, my Grandpa lived on a farm in Amish country in Ohio. Legit in the middle of nowhere. His house was over 100 years old and thus had many insulation issues which allows many creepy crawly things to get into the house. My brothers all slept in a large room in the back of the house but since I am the only girl in my family, I always stayed in my own room. Which usually worked out rather nicely for me – but alas, it was not the case when we were at Grandpa’s house.
My room was the smallest room on the side of the house and – you guessed it – it was INFESTED with ladybugs. And when I say INFESTED, I mean THOUSANDS of ladybugs crawling through the windows… on all the walls… on the ceiling… throughout the dresser drawers… weaved into the carpeting…
OMG. When I would sleep at night, they would crawl all over my pillow and I would wake up with them all up in my hair.
I would find them all throughout my suitcase weaved in throughout all my clothes.
Even when we got home, I would find DEAD LADYBUGS all up in my bags while I was unpacking!
Like, seriously can you even image!? Being a young girl and these little suckers crawling all over you PLUS THEN STILL coming for you in your bags after death?!
UUGGGGGHHHHHHHH THE WORST, EVA. I HATE THEM.
(And as you can imagine THIS is pretty much my worst nightmare.)
[Side Note: My mom always claims that I am embellishing about the amount of ladybugs in this room & house, but my older brother can personally attest to the FACT that THIS IS THE TRUTH & THAT I AM NOT EXAGGERATING IN THE SLIGHTEST. Ask him!! I will give you his personal cell number if you don’t believe me! Just call him and whisper “Ladybugs”… horrifying. He’ll get it.]
I would beg to sleep in a different room but, nope. That room was my cross to bear.
When I went back to the farm when my Grandpa passed away, I was 19. I did NOT want to stay in THAT ROOM, on top of everything else going on. Thank the Lord I didn’t have to because there was already too many people staying and I was forced to sleep on the couch in the living room.
“Fine by me!”, said I!
*Me, walking to the couch*
So I lay down and on the back of the couch is one of those crocheted colorful blankets that all Grandparents have, you know the ones:
I’m all cuddled up & about to fall asleep and then I happen to turn over and look at the blanket draped basically on top of me and I see:
WEAVED INTO THE DANG BLANKET! Just walking its happy butt right next to me like zero cares in the world!
*Enter me screaming.*
*Me, running up the stairs*
Me, sleeping on the floor of my parents bedroom forever and ever, amen.
Happy Monday! 🙂