It had been a long but fun-filled Easter weekend, and George and I were completely wiped out. I think I was out cold as soon as my head hit the pillow. So when George woke me up about an hour and a half later, I was bleary, groggy, and still mostly asleep.
That didn’t last too long.
After all, when your husband wakes you up to inform you that he just saw a huge bug crawling up your wall, you wake up. Or at least I do.
And when he further informs you that he lost track of this bug and doesn’t know where it went, you suddenly become quite alert.
I don’t like bugs. Especially if they’re on my wall or ceiling or some other location from which they could potentially get to me. And especially if they are large enough that I can’t comfortably squash them with my bare hand. Or a Kleenex. Or a shoe. Or a flyswatter.
I generally like to think of myself as a gentle person. But there is something about creepy, crawly things that brings out my bloodthirsty side.
In fact, I have such an aversion to bugs that, in my parents’ house (where I lived until our wedding), when I walked into a room, I often looked up and did a quick scan of the ceiling, just to make sure all was safe. A lesson learned through experience.
It drove my mother crazy.
But I hadn’t been doing that as much in my new home.
I don’t remember what George’s exact words were that evening. But what I remember from my mostly-asleep state is that he described the bug as “the size of a starfish.”
I have no idea how large a starfish George was talking about, but even a small one is bigger than any bug I would want crawling up the wall near my bed.
I told him that he’d better turn on the light. After some insisting on my part and some struggling to plug the lamp in on George’s part, light flooded the room.
Neither of us saw anything crawling up the wall.
Eventually we both managed to go back to sleep, but my dreams that night featured a very large bug.
The next day, as we discussed the event, George had no recollection of comparing the bug to a starfish. So we suspect that he dreamed the whole thing and woke me up while he was still partially asleep himself. He probably had bugs on his mind after having squashed a two-inch centipede that made a brief appearance in our bathroom earlier that morning.
Nevertheless, I told George that the next time he sees a starfish-sized bug crawling up our wall while I’m asleep, not to wake me up to tell me he lost track of it.
He can tell me about it once the bug has been slaughtered.
In the meantime, I’m getting to know our ceilings pretty well.