Not long ago, I stayed home alone for two nights in a row. I had to study so I was stuck in my apartment in completely solitary confinement for the first time in my life (for that period of time, anyway).
So, day 1 I didn't study at all, and got home around 9 PM. I ordered in, and went to the den to watch some tv. Bad idea.

I should clarify before proceeding that up to that point in my life, I had always gently scorned people afraid of cockroaches. With a little smile (perhaps, I am ashamed to admit, a small knowing smile, which is of course the most annoying type), I would say "Cockroaches? Really? No, they don't freak me out. I mean, sure, they're a little gross, but I can totally handle them. Bees and wasps though, they make me hysterical!!".

Turns out, nothing further from the truth.

So, I was standing in the threshold, happily anticipating a marathonical stretch of total numbness, when I see a little black something (I'm overdoing the italics, aren't I? And the parenthesis. But that's more ingrained) scamper right across the carpet and under my sofa!

I won't go into details. Suffice it to say that I spent at least an hour tiptoeing barefoot around my apartment, with one shoe in each hand, cursing loudly and repeatedly, in a state suspiciously approaching hysteria. In the end, I isolated the room by shutting the door real tight and kept my feet up whenever possible; I didn't watch any tv whatsoever (possibly improving my studies), and I came to the conclusion that I could never live alone because I'd go barking mad (I was torn between 'barking' and 'stark', but I think 'barking mad' has a nicer ring to it, doesn't it?).

NOTE: in attempting to maintain veracity and keep the hyperboles down, I checked out definitions for hysteria and came up with one that says "occurring almost exclusively in women". Do any of you imaginary readers out there know if that's true? It sounds suspiciously like machismo, a women-are-such-drama-queens kind of thing, but maybe I'm wrong. Waiting for your telepathic response!