Upstairs in my sitting room there is a cricket. A fucking cricket is hopping around my sitting room. I reacted to this as if a guy had climbed in the window and pulled a knife on me. There was screaming. There was whimpering of "Oh god please no" even though nobody but me and the cricket are in the house. It is all very humiliating. I had to climb over the sofa, swing off the banister onto the stairs and come down here, and when I go back up and go to bed I am going to have to run as fast as I can up the stairs and into my bedroom - the door of which I shut tight on my way down here - and shut the door again veryveryveryfast. I will then not be able to sleep because I will feel little feet jumping across my skin for a couple of hours. Tomorrow morning, I will wake up and forget the bastard thing is there and then, while I'm trying to clean up the house so my mother doesn't kill me to death, it will jump out at me and I will scream and scream and scream and scream.
This is no fun at all. I suppose, yes, I am glad that it isn't, y'know, a clown. But I still have no actual way of dealing with it. AAAAAH.