Bug: (n) a small insect
Here was the explanation:
“You can always tell a black widow spider by the hourglass on its thorax.”
I don’t like bugs.
I’m going to go one step further, because apparently I’m in a cranky mood.
I don’t like people who like bugs.
On this given day, I don’t even like bug-eyed people. I don’t think I’m alone–we don’t say somebody “antelopes” us. We say they bug us.
Spiders, bugs, insects or whatever categories they fall into, are all obnoxious. And they seem to warn us with their level of ugliness.
For instance, the common house fly is rather common. I know it spends an awful lot of time down at the poop pile, but other than that–and the fact that it occasionally buzzes me when I’m eating potato salad–it seems pretty harmless.
But then you have hairy spiders, long-legged spiders, insects with multiple numbers of legs–all of them warning you through their peculiarities to stay clear. A cockroach–two words that I never want to see together.
Also, I do not think it is fun to watch somebody handle a tarantula.
So when it comes to bugs, I am feeling my skin crawl even as I write this article.
Matter of fact, for the next hour I will probably assume there’s something creeping up my leg.