Home Invasion

I think I became a grown up last night. 

I woke up around 1 a.m., parched and needing a drink. I keep a water bottle on my nightstand for this very purpose. It's one of those 32-ounce bottles with a large, open top and screw-on lid, so I have to sit up to drink it (or else I pour the whole thing down my front). 

I took a few drinks, and then something horrible happened. I am so, so very thankful that my mouth was closed, and I was breathing through my nose, because at that moment, something brushed my lips. Something solid. Something that did not belong in a bottle full of water. Something, that even though I didn't thoroughly inspect the situation, I know was an insect. A boxelder bug, to be exact, because they have infested our house. 

Jerking the water bottle away from my mouth, I set it back down on my nightstand. I closed my eyes and tried to stifle my rapid breathing. I was about to hyperventilate. I rocked back and forth on the edge of my bed like a crazy person. Brett was snoring peacefully, and though I wanted to scream and tear my lips off my face, I did neither. Slowing my rapid heart rate back to a manageable count, I resisted the urge to shake him violently awake, so he could fix the situation. The situation being THAT A BUG JUST TOUCHED MY LIPS. I didn't wake him. He blissfully slept through the bug kissing, and full-blown panic attack, and near heart explosion his wife had just experienced.

I lay back down in bed, pulling the covers up over my chin, and tried to think cleansing thoughts. Eventually, by some miracle, I stopped imagining bugs invading my mouth and fell back asleep. 

My water bottle--housing that horrible insect--is still on my nightstand. I will be throwing away the entire thing tonight. And then perhaps lighting the garbage can on fire.