Yesterday my husband casually informs me that the night before he busted two, rather large rats attempting to set up a love nest under our fridge. If you have been around here a while you will realise that this is the point I had a bit of a freak out and resolved to never walk into my living areas again. Rodents. I hate them. Hate them like some people hate snakes or scary looking clowns or heights. Hate them, hate them.

Every year, to varying degrees, this happens. I was on the couch, late one night when a family of mice ran across my living room, out under the internal sliding door to our garage. I stayed on the couch for hours, feet tucked under me, heart racing in my chest. They were coming back for me. I knew it. They were just on the other side of the door waiting to pounce. I finally climbed over the back of the couch and made it to my bedroom in two giant leaps. I hate, hate them.

Last night I was in bed, just, by mere minutes really and I heard a trap go off. Did you hear that! I shook Hubby awake. All I could imagine was somehow ending up in a confrontation with a now captured, angry rat. A big one. Probably the size of a small dog. It was going to bust out of the confines and come and hunt me down. I made Hubby swear that the traps would be cleared and not reset before I got up for the gym. Don’t make me go out there and see them, I begged. Just don’t okay. Promise me!


So he did. Promise me, that is. Why are you so freaked out. It’s probably in the trap now. It’s better there than running about the house, he said. Gag. Thanks for the reminder Hubby. Well I just hate them. Hate the idea of them running around, the way they smell, that they can run up your legs and get at you, their beady blood-red eyeballs, the fact that they are probably going to eat me alive in my sleep. I just hate, hate them, I wailed.

I get it calm down, he said then wrapped himself around me and went to sleep snoring rather loudly in my ear. I swear I could still hear rats above the noise. They were probably coming to get me. Suffice to say it took me ages to get to sleep last night.

Bloody hell phobias are hard work. Have you got any?  

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