the rogue

A few nights ago, Matt and I crawled into bed. As I was stretching out and preparing for a peaceful night's slumber, my foot grazed across something decidedly non-sheetsy at the bottom of the bed. I immediately recoiled. "Ew!!" I exclaimed. "What's that? There's something in the bed?!"

I jumped out of bed and pulled the sheets all the way back. To my relief, it was merely a band-aid. A little sketch, sure...but in the grand scheme of things, not a bad resolution to the situation. Besides, I knew where it came from: from my own ankle, the night before. I remember nicking myself shaving and putting on a band-aid. Evidently it came off while I slept. No biggie. I fetched the band-aid and threw it in the trash. End of story.

For me.

Not for Matt, though.

EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! He was more or less quietly shrieking. That is SOOOO sick!!!!! Ew!! Ew!!! Ew!!! I'm serious. He was almost dry heaving as he curled his body into the fetal position and flashed disgusted looks at me.

"Seriously, Matt? It's not that big of a deal. It came off my leg last night. It didn't even touch you, it was way on my side. Chill out."

He continued on with the dramatics. Seriously, this performance would be much more appropriate had we discovered there was a LIVE COCKROACH in the bottom of the bed, or perhaps a NEST OF RAT BABIES. It was entirely too much for a lone band-aid. But yet he carried on still.

After a long while of putting up with his drama, I finally decided I should get to the bottom of this situation. I do have a bachelor's degree in psychology, after all. Which makes me entirely qualified to evaluate and analyze someone's ridiculous and uncalled-for behavior, right? Right.

After literally minutes of assessment, I determined that to Matt, a used band-aid is THE GROSSEST THING EVER. It is THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN. It is THE MOST NASTY THINK HE CAN EVER POSSIBLY IMAGINE. To think! All these years, I never knew this about him! I even posed this question to him: Which is worse, a band of zombies chasing you, or a used band-aid? and he couldn't answer. This is SERIOUS, folks.

So like any good counselor would, as soon as I unearthed his deepest, darkest fear, I decided to exploit it.

Matt, you don't even KNOW about how nasty band-aids can be. If you walked a mile in my shoes...wow. You would DIE, buddy. Do you KNOW what kids do when they find used band-aids on the floor at school? They PUT THEM IN THEIR MOUTHS. Yeah. I have actually used the phrase "please take that bloody band-aid out of your mouth and put it in the trashcan" on MORE THAN ONE OCCASION. You have NO IDEA how nasty kids and band-aids are. And as their teacher, I have to witness it all.

Upon hearing this most-disgusting tale, Matt is doing that squeamish-freak out thing that you do when you see a roach run across the room and disappear underneath a big pile of your stuff. That's why I decided to tell him a few more stories.

Yeah, and SOMETIMES I even find a random band-aid that ISN'T MINE stuck to my pants or my shoes at school!!!! And I have to pull it off and throw it away!! Just think! Stuck to ME!

Basically, I've been getting a lot of mileage out of this amazing phobia for the last few days. Which is why when I got to school today and saw this, I immediately snapped a picture and texted it to Matt:

   
Did I get a few strange looks from other teachers and students as I crouched over to photograph this gem? Yes. I believe I did. Was it worth it, to send my unsuspecting husband a picture of his Greatest Fear-- a rogue band-aid?

Absolutely. A thousand times over, yes.