I love the mini-minoaurs. It's not a stretch to say that they saved my life, and I'm certain that Jen and I will be making jokes about them until we're gone from this earth.  

And, weirdly, culture has caught up with the minotaur. There's even a Mini-Minotaur song from 2013 by Toby Turner a.k.a. Toboscus (though Jen came up with the idea much earlier than that, and perhaps should have copyrighted it). You can even buy a Mini-Minotaur plush toy, pictured above, which I should unquestionably buy myself for a gift when I can declare myself sufficiently finished with this labyrinth. 

But I can't get too cocky. I can't pretend that the fear is something I'm done with once and for all. If there's anything I should now in the world, it's that the past is never over I can't just laugh and say 

mini-minotaurs, how cute, ha ha 

because I know they can reassemble into a single, larger minotaur at my door. Or, if they'd prefer, they can always call upon one of the many larger minotaurs out there, designed for others, to come after me if I drop my vigilance.

I kid you not, people. When the fear is inside you, it's never more than a phone call away. Better give it respect. Better not discount it. That's exactly what it needs from you go get a foothold.