Life, or something vaguely resembling bananas, is not always funny and, this time I am not laughing. I have been diagnosed with katsaridaphobia. Katsaridaphobia is the fear of cockroaches. I take comfort that cockroach phobia is common, ranking as high as fear of the dark. Of course, this small measure of comfort lends no solace to driving my car. As life would have it, a family of cockroaches has decided to take up residency in my car. I discovered my car-pooling friends late one night when I entered my car. Much to my fright, there was one sitting on the dash ready to ride. Given my phobia, my next course of action was to evacuate myself to safety and put Mr. Doo Funny on the case of the offending car poolers. As hoped, Doo Funny rushed in and removed the offending be roadie. However, everyone knows cockroaches are not lone wolfs, where there is one, there is bound to be a million or so more. I present Doo Funny with this fact only to be laughed at and told that I am millions times larger compared to my car-pooling friends (I paused to examine his comment because it smacked of a stab to call me fat). To make a fruit salad moment even fruitier, he pontificated, “they have always lived in your car, and you have never seen them because you do not drive late at night.” He finished his off-centered advice with, “you have to over come your fear because cockroaches are prevalent here, in Hawaii, and they are in everyone’s car!” Hmmm, I am speechless and about to WALK to the store and by a few bugs bombs and commence to wage war to reclaim what is rightfully mine, my car!
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