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So there is a cockroach making my life a living hell right now. I'm not even kidding. And before you ask, I am speaking literally, not metaphorically. Although it could work both ways, I guess.
This morning, I was fixing the kids breakfast when a roach crawled onto the counter literally two inches from me. Now I need to digress for a moment to explain to you that I think roaches might be the thing I fear the most in this world. I won't lie...there was a time I saw a cockroach on the ceiling of the bedroom when I was home alone pre-kids. I hightailed it out of their and spent the night in my bathroom with a towel shoved under the door until I could get someone to kill it for me. That's how much I hate them. Enough to sleep in a flipping bathroom. They freak me out. I can't stand to see them (the antenna! so gross!) , to kill them (The crunch! Ugh!), or to dispose of them (What if it comes back to life while I'm holding it???) even if I can bring myself to kill them.
It's unfortunate, because in Florida, roaches are everywhere. My next door neighbor and best friend shares my fear and hatred of roaches. There have been numerous times when one of our husbands has been out of town when we'll borrow the other's spouse to kill a bug for us, or we'll just attack it with hairspray and try to trap it. Neither one of us actually kills them often, and at least in my case, I have been known to hyperventilate because of a bug. So she really proved her love for me one night soon after John left, when I was having a nervous breakdown and out of nowhere, a huge roach crawled across the floor. Without saying a word, she got up, stomped that thing dead, then grabbed a paper towel and threw the bug away. Then she came back and sat down next to me, and she acted like it never even happened. Now that's devotion. I think she might still be scarred from the altercation.
So you understand how bad it is for me. So when the aforementioned roach crawled up onto my kitchen counter and peered at me from behind a bottle of tylenol, I froze. I looked around for something to kill it fruitlessly, and yelled "A shoe! Get me a shoe!" My kids are used to me yelling random directions like that at them, and apparently my terrified tone didn't convey any meaning to them, because they both did the kid thing I hate. They asked me why I needed a shoe. Of course, I had to take advantage of the teachable moment, all without taking my eyes off the bug.
"Your job is to do as I say, not ask me why! Who's in charge here, anyway? I need a shoe right now, and if I say I need a shoe it's because I need a shoe! Got it?"
There was a tiny child's shoe in my hand five seconds later. The shoe was smaller than the bug. Crap. I swung and missed and the thing crawled underneath the microwave and you'd better believe if I can barely kill a roach I most definitely cannot search one out. Ava told me to leave the shoe on the counter just in case, so I did.
Fast forward to dinner. We have not seen the bug all day. I am crushing french fried onions to bread pork chops and lean over to grab something to pound on them better. He was lurking right behind the cup I picked up, twirling it's antenna all over the place. I panicked and grabbed the plates of food off the counter, the kids are screaming bloody murder, the dogs are barking, and in the excitement of it all somehow the bug got flipped over on it's back. Okay, it's stuck, legs bicycling, totally freaking out. If I can't kill an upside down, out of commission bug, I should really just give it all up. I grab the shoe and swing.
Next thing I knew, the thing had flipped back over and was making it's escape. In my frustration, I actually moved a couple of things aside to try to kill it, but it was no good. He had made his getaway. But something tells me he'll be back, and I've got to be ready. Pistols at sunrise, maybe?
