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Icon is directed at myself today.
Good morning, flist!
I am chugging the coffee this morning in an attempt to appear human.
This is probably because last night I discovered that my "fear" of roaches was actually much more in line with a phobia. Said discovery happened after I found a dead critter on my floor, and as I got a dustbin to remove it from my premises, I found myself rooted to the spot, wheezing and unable to move any closer, all the while scaring my poor dog. After a few minutes of trying to stop being the world's biggest weenie, I wound up just draping the dustbin over it, and curling up in my bed, unable to sleep for hours.
Yes, I am pathetic. People getting concussions, barely avoiding jackknifing eighteen wheelers, or nearly spinning out on icy freeways, or trying to chase down hooligans who have stolen dear personal property from me, oh, I can handle those just fine with a nice cool sense of detachment and calm. Dead roach in my room? DEAR GOD, THE END IS NIGH!
Maybe I'll get a nice dustpan on a three foot pole from Walmart and try to face my fears again, hopelfully with less panic attacks. Or maybe I'll ask my uncle to do it and bribe him to not laugh at me with homemade sweets.
Or maybe I'll sleep on the couch. Dead-Zombie-Roach can't get me there.
In non-pathetic news, it's Monday, the sun is shining, and all of that other jazz. I had a lovely weekend, and am less inclined to take up the life of a carnie. Which is good because they kind of freak me out. I've already been through my morning RSS feeds, and picked out some fun nuggets:
Would you like some SCARY with your coffee? Wireless, spywareless keylogging has arrived. Way to ruin Starbucks for the rest of us, hackers1.
1 - Okay, technically this is electronic espionage and not really hacking. But still.
Or what about some cyborg crickets?
No? Er, that's all I've got so far.
Good morning, flist!
I am chugging the coffee this morning in an attempt to appear human.
This is probably because last night I discovered that my "fear" of roaches was actually much more in line with a phobia. Said discovery happened after I found a dead critter on my floor, and as I got a dustbin to remove it from my premises, I found myself rooted to the spot, wheezing and unable to move any closer, all the while scaring my poor dog. After a few minutes of trying to stop being the world's biggest weenie, I wound up just draping the dustbin over it, and curling up in my bed, unable to sleep for hours.
Yes, I am pathetic. People getting concussions, barely avoiding jackknifing eighteen wheelers, or nearly spinning out on icy freeways, or trying to chase down hooligans who have stolen dear personal property from me, oh, I can handle those just fine with a nice cool sense of detachment and calm. Dead roach in my room? DEAR GOD, THE END IS NIGH!
Maybe I'll get a nice dustpan on a three foot pole from Walmart and try to face my fears again, hopelfully with less panic attacks. Or maybe I'll ask my uncle to do it and bribe him to not laugh at me with homemade sweets.
Or maybe I'll sleep on the couch. Dead-Zombie-Roach can't get me there.
In non-pathetic news, it's Monday, the sun is shining, and all of that other jazz. I had a lovely weekend, and am less inclined to take up the life of a carnie. Which is good because they kind of freak me out. I've already been through my morning RSS feeds, and picked out some fun nuggets:
Would you like some SCARY with your coffee? Wireless, spywareless keylogging has arrived. Way to ruin Starbucks for the rest of us, hackers1.
1 - Okay, technically this is electronic espionage and not really hacking. But still.
Or what about some cyborg crickets?
No? Er, that's all I've got so far.