**  Cockroaches.

Yes, I’m a grown a** woman who’s had to handle all sorts of gross things but y’all, please.  Cockroaches?  Just…no.  Their giant bodies (are they BORN enormous?) and creepy skittering movements.  Plus that disgusting *crunch* they make when someone (not me ‘cuz COCKROACHES) stomps them flat.  Let’s not even talk about the yucky mess of guts they leave behind.  Just…no.

**  Bloodsucking mosquitos.

Please don’t talk to me about the delicate balance of the ecosystem and such.  I’m sure there’s a parallel universe in which I care about the mosquito’s survival rate, but it’s not this one.  In this one mosquitos feast on our arms and legs as we watch ball games, have neighborhood cookouts, or enjoy the last bit of daylight when it’s not 98 degrees.  Even more fun?  Playing who’s-got-the-most-bites the morning after a family outing and running through half a tube of cortisone.

**  Cigarette smoke.

Indoors, outdoors, in a small room or a large courtyard.  Walking behind someone smoking, sitting near a smoker, getting closed into an elevator with the guy who just took his smoke break.  And don’t talk to me about vaping being the Great Solution.  Cigarette smoke.  Period.

**  Blisters.

Is there anything more wrenching than the betrayal of a pair of perfectly comfortable looking shoes?  Well, sure, of course there is, but still.  I know I’ll be doing a boatload of walking, I put on shoes to get me through the day, and by lunchtime I feel that telltale burn at my heel.  Raw blisters, blood blisters, blisters you can “fix” by draining them (yeah, yeah, I sterilize the needle first) – no matter the type, the hate remains the same.  Dammit.

**  Short people gaslighting.

Okay, for the record, I accept that “short people” comments regarding my particular kids will forthwith be in jest only.  There.  I admitted it.  They’re looking me in the eye.

But what isn’t in jest is the flash fire behind my eyes when those kids gaslight me and there’s a split second when I really can’t remember if I agreed that they could stay out an extra thirty minutes.  Half of me wants to scream omg I know what time you were supposed to be home while the other half is busy thinking hmmm…