Specifically, I hate little balls of thread, the kind that come from my clothes and fall to the floor and lay there so patiently looking exactly like a dead bug, but that I know is not a dead bug, and when I reach down to pick it up makes me scream like a little girl because not only was is not a little ball of thread but it also was not a dead bug, and instead was a live bug which managed to skitter halfway up my arm before I managed to swat it to the ground and jump away doing the “Oogie Boogie” dance as the goosebumps form all up my arms and back.
I hate thread.