When I was young child, I visited my El Salvador with my family. My grandmother’s house was pretty typical for the time, open and breezy. The living room and kitchen consisted of three walls(again, cooler) and the bathroom had no ceiling. You do not want a ceiling in the most humid room in a humid country.

Now imagine little baby Moo. 5 years old. Tiny, cute and with a hefty dose of anxiety just constantly permeating throughout her body. But the bathroom? She wasn’t anxious of no bathroom. The lack of ceiling? Why that was pratical! Her fear that la llorona was hiding in the toilet? Well baby, la llorona doesn’t hang out in El Salvador. That constant UTI? Well… actually that really sucked but you know she was being dragged to a bunch of doctors, it was going to be treated eventually…

ANYWAY

Again, picture little Moo. Poor innocent little Moo. Just sitting there, peeing. I had no idea what was going to come next. Out of nowhere, a HUGE bat, in my mind the size of a small plane, attacked! ME! An innocent! In my sanctuary! Mid stream!

Well, I ran. And I screamed. All while flapping my arms up in the air, like an angry muppet.

And that was that. Actually it was not that. Just wait until you hear about the crabs in the bathroom. No! Not those kinds of crabs