I stood there, alone in the middle of my bathroom, bladder full. There, right next to the toilet, was a medium-sized cockroach. It wasn’t moving; just there, waiting for me. I kept muttering “I can do this” to myself, kept muttering “you can do this” to my poor bladder sphincter; but couldn’t even move one inch closer to the unwanted visitor.
After 60 minutes of self-assurance and excessive swearing, Vickie versus Roach: Vickie 1, Roach 0.
Ah, it’s nice to empty the bladder — properly. You know, into the toilet.
Hmm, yeh, and the cockroach was already dead by the time I discovered it.
Dude, my entomophobia is impossible…
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