There aren't very many bugs in San Francisco. We had a few roaches here and there, which are creepy, and I might have come across one or two crawlyl things, but rarely did I see anything that was both creepy and crawly. This was a relief, as I am highly arachnophobic (I associate spiders with abandonment, but also, EW THEY'RE SO GROSS) and the place I left in Seattle was a basement that I shared with Aaron, the dog, and approximately 300 spiders. It was $200 a month with a w/d and a giant yard, so I sucked it up and kept my head ducked and thought about rainbows and butterflies when I got creeped out.
Santa Barbara is another story. There are spiders. EVERYWHERE. There are three giant ones taking over the backyard and tens of others hiding in the miniature palm trees and in the shed. Aaron's doing a good job getting rid of the ones who are so bold as to put one disgusting, rubbery toe in our house, but we're fighting a losing battle.
Today, I got out of the shower and was brushing my teeth when I noticed a thing out of the corner of my eye underneath the washcloth. I lifted it up and, holy motherfucking christ, there it was, just chilling in the humid atmosphere. I gave a gurgly yelp and ran out of the bathroom and did my "Dear LORD IT ALMOST TOUCHED ME KILL IT KILL IT NOW" dance, but by the time Aaron figured out that I wasn't having a seizure the spider had sought refuge elsewhere.
Then, I was driving to pick Aaron up from work (he has a job now!) and as soon as I popped the trunk for him to put his knives in, I looked over and there's another one, this one grey and maybe slightly bigger than my thumb. I let out a stifled scream and jumped out of the car and onto the sidewalk and, for the benefit of the people smoking outside a bar, did my "IT WAS IN THE CAR WITH ME THE WHOLE TIME FUCKING MCVIRGIN HOW DID IT GET IN THERE" dance. Aaron couldn't find this one either and I drove home, whiteknuckled and looking all around me to ensure that the spider was either (a) a figment of my imagination (I'd rather be crazy than be in the same room with those fucking things) or (b) hiding under my seat, plotting its next attack.
I will spend the rest of the night feeling like there are things crawling all over me and pouting. God, I hate spiders.