I usually consider myself a reasonable human being. I try not to freak out over things before I know the complete facts. I stay cool, calm and collected under most circumstances.
There is, however, one thing I cannot tolerate. Worms.
Even having this picture of a worm on my very own blog is giving me the heebie-jeebies. I don't think I was always like this, though. Visions of my annoying brothers chasing me with squirmy worms rolls through my head, so I am sure they brought this aversion upon me.
As a kid, my dad wouldn't always put the worm on my fishing hook. Something about needing to learn to do it myself if I really wanted to fish. Well, there was no way I was actually going to tear one of the things apart with my hands and then jam a hook into its leftover body numerous times while it squirms in my hands. So, I gently poured a worm on the ground and attempted to jab the hook into it while hardly ever touching the actual worm.
I can't really describe how I feel when I see a worm. My insides cringe. My skin crawls. Panic sets in. The cool, calm and collected Feather completely evaporates into an insane, unreasonable person.
Which, is going to make walking the dog this spring very difficult. This morning, about halfway through my walk, I noticed them. They were all around me on the street; blocking my normal path. Who knows how many of them I had already stepped on. I couldn't think about that. I had to think about how I was going to get home without touching them, and without Ransom touching them. The rest of my walk, my eyes were glued to the cement - calculating my steps.
It was worse in college. Worms were everywhere after the rain. Hubs thinks these walks will help me conquer my fear. I think he should walk Ransom on these days.