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I'm a pathetic bundle of neuroses. I have three terrible phobias, and they're not even interesting or exotic ones. The big one is needles. I've fainted twice getting shots, and while I'm still awake, I scream like I'm about to be tossed in a woodchipper. It's sickening, really, but at least I have a sound psychological basis: when I was a little kid, a nurse broke a needle off in my leg. When I cried, she yelled at me! I sincerely hope this woman has been banned from the medical profession, or cut herself on a rusty scalpel and developed lockjaw, or something. Another is heights. I don't even like getting up on a chair to change a lightbulb. It's a good thing I'm short.
And the third - finally hovering in sight of a point, here - is spiders. I don't care if the spider is tiny, or nonpoisonous, or they help the environment by eating mosquitos, or anything. They could poop gold and discover a cure for cancer. They're SPIDERS. Ugh. UGH! I made the mistake of mentioning my arachnaphobia when Jen was writing Daphnes and Dragons and I think she had a little too much fun with the chapter this picture illustrates. |