THEY ARE SO DISGUSTING

Tonight I found the real me. And I should warn you that the real me isn't pretty. The real me involves pants tucked into high socks and sweatshirts tied tightly around my neck. Lest you think this behavior is all for naught, allow me to explain.
There is no concept in this world that scares me more than the idea that bugs can crawl into my crevices at night. As an open-mouth sleeper, I've developed techniques like holding my arm across my mouth or forming a blanket tent over my nose and mouth to prevent such disasters from taking place. In the summertime, when all sorts of creatures of the outdoors (note: I live in the country) come inside for the air conditioning, I sleep bundled up.
There is also nothing more concretely scary to me than pincher bugs, aka earwigs. Earwigs, in case you don't know, are long, flat black bug with pinchers instead of tails. They scare me not only because they have sharp pinchers but because they like hiding in tiny, hidden places. I once got onto my bike and pulled the brake only to watch three pincher bugs crawl out from inside the brake. Another time, I flipped open the garage door code cover and a pincher bug crawled out from the joint thing. You never know just where they'll show up next.
And tonight, I was minding my own business like there was nothing wrong in the world while cleaning up my room. One step in my organizing method is to make separate piles of clothing on my bed. The next step is to put those piles onto the shelves in my closet. After having made the piles, however, I felt that I needed a break and came downstairs despite the clothes on my bed. When I went back up, I turned my music on very low and started transferring my tee-shirt pile into my closet. I noticed a black mark on one of my shirts and at first thought it was just the label showing through since the shirt is fairly sheer. A closer look couldn't hurt anyway, so I looked closer. What I found was this:
On my shirt. On my bed. Right near my pillow.
Lest you think the little bugger is cute, I am going to inform you that this tale is not yet through. You see, I used to be afraid of pincher bugs for their pinchers and sneakiness. Now I'm afraid of them because they are also--get this--spawns of the Devil.
Frantically looking around my room, I came to realize that I didn't have a single tissue anywhere (and I hate killing bugs with tissues because I once did and the one I killed crunched in my fingers and I felt it crunching). Desperate times call for desperate measures and I pulled a shirt I had just thrown into the garbage an hour earlier out of the garbage to use to squash the pincher bug. The pincher bug merely crawled away and under my shirt.
I threw my shirt across my bed and no bug fell out. I threw the next shirt in the pile across my bed and no bug fell out either. My sense was slowly setting back in and it occurred to me that perhaps I should be throwing my shirts away from my bed. The next one I threw onto the floor and, lo and behold, the bug went with it.
With the fetched-out-of-the-garbage shirt placed on top of the bug, I started squishing it with a water bottle. If I were the size of that bug and had a water bottle squished onto me, I would have died. But that's because I'm not a spawn of the devil. Next, I tried pounding it with my blowdrier. A full 60 seconds of pounding later, it was still, if not slowly, crawling around. Eventually, I got it to die.
So now here I am, after having cleared my whole bed, in pants tucked into socks and a sweatshirt tied tight up to my neck. I shook out my blankets and pillows and moved my bed from against the wall. I am minutes away from sleeping in the guest room and seconds away from sleeping with my sweatshirt on backwards so as to cover my face with the hood. Clearly, insanity isn't attractive and I'm afraid I won't ever fall asleep tonight.