Husband thinks that my irrational (and nearly always illogical) hatred of certain things is hilarious. The biggest one being rodents.
I.HATE.MICE. I just do not do mice. At all. Ever. I've been known to call my brother at 2am screaming into the phone that the big killer scary mice were after me and he had to come around NOW to save me (oh, and his niece, the Midget too) My father in law has had plenty of pleading 'rescue me' phone calls too, back when husband was working night shift.
Husband, Midget and my Nan one year bought a fake cat toy-esque mouse for my birthday one year, which they hid in amongst my gifts. They claim to have witnessed me jumping 84 feet in the air and at the same time jumping clean across the room in a bid to get away from the mouse. They found it hilarious, I burst into tears.
Said mouse has since made several appearances around the house. It's been hidden in the top of the wardrobe - it takes less than 1.5 seconds to get from the floor to the middle of the bed incase you were wondering, it's been in my handbag, in the pantry and the bathtub.
We've recently moved, and the Husband and I are involved in a box unpacking stand off, which has resulted in boxes being unpacked on a strict only-when-needed policy. I broke the potato masher tonight while making dinner, so went looking for my spare one, which just happened to be in Boxland. The relevant box was located, the tape removed, and I started pulling stuff out. Including that.f##king.mouse. Naturally I screamed, like a little girl, and Husband must of guessed what had happened, because instead of rushing to my aid, Prince Charming style, he instead chose to convulse in fits of laughter. Bastard.
I'd love to say the mouse is gone, but seeing as I refuse to touch it - and yes I do realise it's fake, and therefore not actually a mouse - that would be a lie. I just hope it doesn't make any more appearances