What Happened Last Week, Part 2: The Cockroach Attacks

I realize I'm risking TMI, but I'll spare you the less necessary details. I'm in the bathroom, and I'm stuck there, when the large, disturbing cockroach appears.

This is the South. I'm used to having these little guys around, but they disgust me to the point that I usually can't even stand to kill them. I can catch and release a lizard, I can kill a wasp, I can capture and release a spider, given a plastic cup and a piece of cardboard, but I cannot deal with cockroaches unless they are already dead.

He crawls around the room from corner to corner. I ignore him as best I can, thinking he'll naturally stay away from me. There's no need for histrionics. Until there is need.

I'm telling you, this thing flies from the bathroom wall to my arm while I am sitting there, and proceeds to make its way up toward my shoulder. No amount of arm shaking or swatting can detour him from his goal, and that's when I start screaming. I refer you to “What Happened Last Week, Part 1” if you wonder why so strong a reaction. He eventually falls to the floor, and that's about when my two little boys arrive to find out what's wrong now.

“The roach was on my arm,” I huff, breathlessly.

Warily, we watch it crawl around the room. I'm still seated, you realize, a captive of this thing, and the fact that there are now other people in the room with me. Next thing we know it flies again, from the corner of the bathroom to land RIGHT ON MY LEG. And that's when we all scream. When I shake it from my lap and try to stomp on it, this thing miraculously survives, And that is when my husband arrives on the scene, ready to dispatch dread creature, only after demanding to know why we're all screaming, that is.

I have damaged my children irrevocably. Now they are afraid of roaches. Especially afraid is my little one, aged four.

You may still be wondering what happened to the dog, right? Next post.