Seriously, this comes with a disclaimer. If you are an entomophobe, or in any way squeamish, just skip this entry. I will understand. I was the same way, many years ago. After living in Florida for thirty long, bug-filled years, raising a son, (I hate to generalize, but why is it boys are usually the ones bringing home yucky things while girls tend to get into your makeup?) caring for a horse with various health issues which produced a variety of disgusting smells and situations, and living with other animals that poop and hack up hairballs, I am numb to the gross and horrifying.
Rooney was banished from the bed last night so I fell asleep, thinking life was grand. I awoke at around 3 a.m. for a potty break. When I came back to bed, I reached for my water bottle on the nightstand. In the dark, I could only feel something on the bottle, but it dropped and I tried to convince myself it must have been one of my hairbands.
It wasn't.
Now, let me back up a bit and fill in some details. A few weeks ago, while we were watching TV in bed, I went to get a drink and saw something fall off the bottle and land on the bed. I searched but couldn't find anything. At some point, I felt something on me, lifted my shirt, and a rather sizeable roach fell out and scooted under the bed. There was no hope of finding it. I told you I am immune to this. Thirty years ago, if this same scenario had played out, I would have packed my bags and left. And, I would still be screaming in some psych ward in PA.
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| It was a giant roach I tell you!!! Eight feet tall!! |
Before moving to Florida from Pennsylvania, I had never even seen a roach or a flea. Two things happened when we moved into our first house in Orlando: 1) I saw my first Palmetto bug, aka humongous, stinky roach and 2) our poor little dog got infested with fleas. I was so mortified, I just went straight to fumigating the whole house. We went to a motel and I said, "Nuke it!"
Today, I am a little more environmentally conscious. We fired our pest service and I have developed a sort of live and let live attitude. I do not, however, want roaches on my water bottle or in my bed. That crosses the line. The cats are very good at keeping pests away, but they aren't usually in our bedroom. So, I decided I needed to get some roach traps. I also ordered a bug vacuum. I pictured myself grabbing the thing and sucking up a bug before it knew what hit it. I would set if free, of course. That was my plan...
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| The 15-watt turbo charged Bug Vacuum aka The Husband Heart Attack Maker |
Also, while I was shopping the day before yesterday, something told me to buy a flashlight. I stood there in Target questioning this "voice" as to why I needed a freaking flashlight. I did draw some weird looks from other customers, but who cares? People with hidden ear phones always look like they're talking to themselves. Little did they know I was arguing with a much different voice. Anyway, I bought a damn flashlight. The reason was clear as I stood in the dark, nervous about what really was on my water bottle. I grabbed that little flashlight and, at first, saw nothing. Then I lifted my Kindle, and there it was - the roach.
Andy was sound asleep, so I had a dilemma - risk giving him a heart attack by turning on the turbo charged bug vac, or squash the bug myself, the old fashioned way. Seriously, I stood there for awhile, frozen with indecision. If it hadn't been for the flashlight momentarily blinding the bug, I'm sure it had enough time to escape again. I opted for the truly gross method - I grabbed a tissue and smooshed the roach.
I was grossed out. I was shaking because I truly hate to kill things. I mean, that poor thing didn't decide to BE a roach. It was its fate. Anyway, it was gone; Andy was still asleep and alive; the dogs never had a clue what happened. I crawled back into bed, but could not close my eyes. No, seriously, they would not close. It was like I had mainlined caffeine. I imagined the roach's family, waiting somewhere for his/her return, then finding out I was the killer. I just knew they were coming for me. So, I got up. It was now about 3:30 a.m.
I got a new bottle of water, explained to the confused cats what happened, turned on the computer, then just sat and stared at the screen. A few minutes later, Andy came walking into the kitchen. He gave me the look I've seen many times over the years that says, "Why are you up? Do you realize it's the middle of the night?" We have reached the point where words are no longer necessary. I told him what happened, and he joined me in being wide awake.
We listened to some old Graham Nash songs - and talked about the Chicago Seven, and reminisced about how, back in the day, music was so much better. But the political issues haven't changed much at all. We were very deep for it being 4 a.m.
Eventually, we went back to bed. I may return the bug vacuum. It seems as though the only time bugs make an appearance in this house is in the middle of the night. I just can't risk losing my hubby over a bug...
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