Yeah, well so what.

That's right. I don't particularly like traveling, even though I like being in new places. It's the getting there that bugs me. And I also seem to have "issues" with the outdoors, but hey, it's hard when you have allergies and contacts, and you're a girl and have to crouch to pee, and no matter how hard you try you get the trickle down the leg thing. But this does not mean that I'm not fun loving. So what if I find cleaning relaxing?

On an unrelated note, the depth of my relationship to the spiders and centipedes in my home has developed a disturbing life of its own. My apartment has become an epic battleground between good and evil (good=spiders, evil=centipedes--anything with that many legs is PURE evil). Anyways, I try to stay out of it for the most part, but there are times when I intervene on behalf of the spiders. I leave their webs alone, I guide them to safe places when they wander into high traffic areas of the house. All I ask is that they eat as many centipedes as spiderly possible. It's a delicate balance. Let's just say that when I see the shriveled corpse of a centipede all tangled up in a web, I pump my arm up and down and say yes.