It was a miracle. I woke up on time. I even had time to style my hair and pack a healthy lunch. Today was going to be alllllllll right.

But while I was packing my lunch, I heard a BOOM and saw a flash of light, and then I realized the morning wasn’t going to go as planned.

Doggone it. (I probably said something else.)

Gertie is afraid of the rain. And that means she won’t go potty (outside.) I squatted down and looked at Gertie in the eye.

Please go to the potty for mommy, I begged. I really, really want to be on time for work today.

As I was putting her leash on, I was resenting her for being such a big fraidycat. Bikes, storms, vacuum cleaners, the ironing board, grocery carts — these items are all kryptonite to my dog.  Her reaction? She wants to get away. Fast.

 It’s not so much of a problem in the apartment. She just goes behind the bed or into another room. But when we are running and a bicycle passes us, I have to be ready to grip and pull because otherwise, I’m going for a ride.

In fact, I’m so used to her being terrified of bikes that on the rare days I go for a run without her, I find myself cringing when a bike passes me. How is that for some messed up transference?

Stupid dog and her stupid neurosis.

I opened the door. And immediately closed it with a shriek.

The fiance yelled out from the bedroom, “What’s wrong, babe?”


Big spider. Like the size of my fist. Hanging down from her web at eye level right inside my doorway.

I was shaking. I couldn’t move. I wanted to run and crawl back into bed and make the awfulness that was the spider in my doorway go away. I wanted to get away. Fast.

The fiance was out of bed. He hates spiders as much as I do, but he’s not rendered paralyzed by them like me.

Hairspray, he said. I knew exactly what he wanted.

I handed him the swiffer mop and ran to get my hairspray. Standing there in his boxers, he mentally prepared himself to open the door.

Finally, he swung it open.

Holy cow, he said. (He probably said something else.)

I know, I told you, I quipped as I stood there wringing my hands.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh, he sprayed and sprayed (And yes, it’s an aeresol can. I only use it once in a blue moon and I’ve probably had it for two years.)


Bye bye spider.

I cut Gertie some slack for not going potty outside.


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4 responses to “Morningaphobia

  1. Lol, I know, silly typo, but it made me laugh.

    Hehe, AROUSAL can!

    Woo hoo, market that baby!

  2. Pingback: Open Memo to Showtime (and Diablo Cody) « Queen of Quirky

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