Good news! I "calmly alerted" my apartment management that I was experiencing a "moderate pest issue" and they sent in exterminators to spray my place the following Friday. Naturally, I made a mental note to have everything neat and tidy for my Friday saviours, and planned as such so that the exterminators, whose esteem I clearly desire, would know that I was just the unfortunate victim in this insect tragedy, not the cause of such. Unfortunately, while they told me the exterminators would be in on Friday, they actually came on Wednesday, and I was quite unprepared for guests. Luckily, I was not at home typing in my underwear...ahem...not that I do that anyway, I'm always properly dressed when working...but unluckily I was about 12 hours away from doing dishes. Which means that the kitchen could best have been described as unseemly. When I got home on Wednesday evening I saw a note from said exterminators cautioning me not to leave out dirty dishes, as they attract bugs. But...but...but...I'm a clean person!....they weren't supposed to come until Friday!....I would have had everything nice and tidy on Friday!...I've been framed! I definitely wasn't prepared for the Wednesday visit, and I have half a mind to invite those exterminators back over to show them that I am clean and keep a tidy apartment, and the roaches aren't my fault. I can feel their judging eyes on me even to this day. It haunts me.
The note from the exterminators also cautioned not to spray any insecticide in my apartment as it may interfere with the effectiveness of their spray....uh....considering I practically set up a Raid bomb in my apartment nary but 2 weeks ago, that may be a problem.
I think bugs are just attracted to me no matter how much Raid I spray. Yesterday when I finally got home after a long day I noticed an itch at my scalp. When I went to scratch, a freaking ladybug flew out of my hair. Ok, fine, it wasn't a ladybug...it was one of those stink bugs that look like brown ladybugs...but definitely not as bad as a roach in my bathtub. I let the "ladybug" live and it is now just hanging out on my wall. No reason to smash a stinkb...er...ladybug in my apartment.
Summer has brought all of its sweaty, uncomfortable friends to my neighborhood for a block party way too early this year. The last couple days have been in the low 90's and today its supposed to be 89. Which means my apartment is hot. Sauna hot. I should charge myself to sit here. My bananas are ripening at a ridiculous rate and I no longer have to bother with boiling water to make tea. Also, my skin is melting off. Yet I REFUSE to turn on the air conditioner. In April. Even though, according to my mom, this qualifies me for early entry into the old lady club. I'm ok with that. Even though I realize that it would probably only increase my electric bill by about $20, I abstain on principle alone, even if that means sweating to death buck naked in my insect infested apartment with the dirty dishes.
Psych. I have no scruples. I turned the air on halfway through the post.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Unholy War Against Nature
Fueled by a bottle of lambic peach, I decide to post yet again.
Nature has it out for me. And it knows exactly which irrational fear buttons to push to send me over the edge. Last Sunday, on the day of our Lord, a sacred and holy day, a day for relaxation and reflection on the blessings we've all been given, the spawn of Satan himself made a visit to my home. For four terrifying hours I struggled with this unholy spawn, until I was so mentally and emotionally exhausted I thought I would surely give up. But I didn't. And with one last push of all the strength I had, I finally overcame.
There was a roach in my bathtub.
A ROACH in my BATHTUB. The place I go naked. The place that cleanses me. The place I go to relax after a hard day or a workout or a stress knot in my back. And I found a live roach. In there. It was 3 pennies long. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to pull back your shower curtain and find a live 3-penny long roach flipped up on its back with its hairy spikey legs floundering in the air and 4 inch antenna flopping against the floor?
Luckily, or so I thought, it appeared the offending creature has already partially succumbed to my protective spray of preventative Raid that I faithfully hose through my apartment every 3 months. However, to be on the safe side I immediately, after a brief minute of wigging out and pacing frantically through my living room, sprayed it down with at least a half can of additional Raid. Then I "calmly" shut the bathroom door so that the roach could finish its death sentence in peace, as I would wish it do the same for me if it or any of its 8 billion relatives were ever to show up in my apartment in the future, and then vowed never to enter my bathroom again. No more than seconds later I called boyfriend to come remove the beast from my presence.
Except he didn't answer. I left a "calm" yet non-descript message requesting his immediate assistance, as he doesn't quite understand my irrational yet pervasive fear of bugs whose only true potential for harm to humans is producing the heebie jeebies. And waited. And waited. And then I sent a text. And waited. It soon became obvious that this distressed damsel needed to grow a pair and double as her own charming prince. And I can be very charming. I went into the bathroom again, peered into the bathtub and wouldn't you know that f-ing bug was still f-ing alive! FOUR HOURS LATER after literally wading in a pool of poison, this mutant of a roach is still kicking around its hairy spikey legs and the damn antenna again flop against the floor. Literally, the bug was drenched in roach spray for four hours. No effect. Still alive.
I called in the only infallible action I know- I took my moms advice. Mom is wise. She told me to smash it with something heavy. So I did. And it died. Finally. And then I had roach guts all over my bathtub. And then I took a nap. Exhausting work, extermination and hyperventilation.
After a long and well deserved nap, I knew I had to dispose of the creature somehow. Flushing seemed the most fitting and least creepy method. So I taped together three pieces of junk mail end to end to create the longest "shovel" with the most stability to scoop up the roach-that-would-not-quit, and as quickly and with the least amount of shaking possible, I flung it into the toilet. And flushed. Oh no! In my fog of panic I completely forgot about the weak swirl! Very limited flushing power! The flush was unsuccessful! THIS ROACH WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS! I will never be rid of it! But I had come so far, I would not give up now. Three more flushes and I was finally free of the roaches snare. And now, the next Thursday, I was able to take a shower for more than 30 seconds in my bathroom without fear. Baby steps.
Nature has it out for me. And it knows exactly which irrational fear buttons to push to send me over the edge. Last Sunday, on the day of our Lord, a sacred and holy day, a day for relaxation and reflection on the blessings we've all been given, the spawn of Satan himself made a visit to my home. For four terrifying hours I struggled with this unholy spawn, until I was so mentally and emotionally exhausted I thought I would surely give up. But I didn't. And with one last push of all the strength I had, I finally overcame.
There was a roach in my bathtub.
A ROACH in my BATHTUB. The place I go naked. The place that cleanses me. The place I go to relax after a hard day or a workout or a stress knot in my back. And I found a live roach. In there. It was 3 pennies long. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to pull back your shower curtain and find a live 3-penny long roach flipped up on its back with its hairy spikey legs floundering in the air and 4 inch antenna flopping against the floor?
Luckily, or so I thought, it appeared the offending creature has already partially succumbed to my protective spray of preventative Raid that I faithfully hose through my apartment every 3 months. However, to be on the safe side I immediately, after a brief minute of wigging out and pacing frantically through my living room, sprayed it down with at least a half can of additional Raid. Then I "calmly" shut the bathroom door so that the roach could finish its death sentence in peace, as I would wish it do the same for me if it or any of its 8 billion relatives were ever to show up in my apartment in the future, and then vowed never to enter my bathroom again. No more than seconds later I called boyfriend to come remove the beast from my presence.
Except he didn't answer. I left a "calm" yet non-descript message requesting his immediate assistance, as he doesn't quite understand my irrational yet pervasive fear of bugs whose only true potential for harm to humans is producing the heebie jeebies. And waited. And waited. And then I sent a text. And waited. It soon became obvious that this distressed damsel needed to grow a pair and double as her own charming prince. And I can be very charming. I went into the bathroom again, peered into the bathtub and wouldn't you know that f-ing bug was still f-ing alive! FOUR HOURS LATER after literally wading in a pool of poison, this mutant of a roach is still kicking around its hairy spikey legs and the damn antenna again flop against the floor. Literally, the bug was drenched in roach spray for four hours. No effect. Still alive.
I called in the only infallible action I know- I took my moms advice. Mom is wise. She told me to smash it with something heavy. So I did. And it died. Finally. And then I had roach guts all over my bathtub. And then I took a nap. Exhausting work, extermination and hyperventilation.
After a long and well deserved nap, I knew I had to dispose of the creature somehow. Flushing seemed the most fitting and least creepy method. So I taped together three pieces of junk mail end to end to create the longest "shovel" with the most stability to scoop up the roach-that-would-not-quit, and as quickly and with the least amount of shaking possible, I flung it into the toilet. And flushed. Oh no! In my fog of panic I completely forgot about the weak swirl! Very limited flushing power! The flush was unsuccessful! THIS ROACH WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS! I will never be rid of it! But I had come so far, I would not give up now. Three more flushes and I was finally free of the roaches snare. And now, the next Thursday, I was able to take a shower for more than 30 seconds in my bathroom without fear. Baby steps.
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