Wednesday, March 26, 2008


I hate roaches. Seriously folks, you just don't understand how much I loathe these things. They're seriously gross. And they fly? Whose stupid idea was that? And to be specific, in this case what we're really talking about are waterbugs. So, I hate waterbugs. But "roach" is easier to type than "waterbug," so we're going to call them roaches from this point forward.

Tonight Aaron and I were folding laundry. I picked up my newly laundered bathrobe and went into the hall bathroom to hang it up on the over-the-door towel rack, when I saw a very large roach hanging out on one of the towels on the rack. I backed up very quickly, clutching my bathrobe to my heart and scanning the floor for additional creepy-crawlies, all in one fluid, terrified movement. Then I just as quickly returned my gaze to the infested towel, where I noticed, in addition to our first visitor, one more set of antennae peeking out from behind the towel. I calmly and quietly explained the situation to Aaron (read: I yelled "There're two roaches in the bathroom!!!"), and he was very sympathetic and helpful (read: he yelled back, "So?"). I repeated the clutch-and-scan movement, when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement in the bathtub. Yep, folks. Three roaches. Three.

And then the fourth one crawled down the wall, not three inches from my face. That's when I calmly and quietly left the bathroom (read: I screamed in my head and hauled butt into the living room, with accompanying full body shudders).

Armed with a shoe, a new roll of toilet paper (for smashing and picking up; our roaches are subsequently flushed to ensure full death) and a bottle of Lysol (flushes 'em out of hiding and disinfects all at the same time), I reentered the bathroom very cautiously and carefully. I quickly dispatched the two by the tub, and after a little persuasion I killed one of the towel roaches. Alas, in the fray the fourth one escaped.

In addition to grossing me out, this was all very strange to me because I have only seen maybe one or two live roaches in our house in the past six months or more. To have four in one night--in one room!--is just...well, it's gross. And it's strange.

But the night was not over.

As I was getting ready for bed, another roach, this one on its back, thank God, scurry-flopped through my bathroom. Smash. Flush.

Then (surely, no more) as I was going to the hall bathroom to get more cotton balls, I saw ANOTHER ONE. By this time I've developed a twitch in my eye and am expecting a stroke or heart attack any minute. I almost threw something at Molly as she ran past me in the semi-dark of the hallway, assured myself that this roach was probably the escapee from earlier, and flipped on the hall light to find a shoe. Guess what I saw in the hallway.

Smash. Smash. Flush.

Six. Six roaches in one night. I don't think I can handle any more. I'm honestly glancing around me every few minutes and jumping at shadows. A gnat landed on my arm and my heart jumped into my throat. It's just not right. The humidity must have magically melded with the warmer weather, or the moon is in the twelfth house of something having to do with bugs, or I'm in a really bad horror movie. I swear, if I see another roach tonight I'm going to cry.

Guess what household service I'm calling in the morning?

***Update: It's now 11:36, and Molly just walked into the dining room with a roach in her mouth. She played with it a minute then it ran away. I'm just flabbergasted. I'm...I'm...I'm going to bed. And if there's one in my bed, I will die.


Anonymous said...

Ohmigosh - "scurry-flopped" and the first "smash-flush" sent me into gales of laughter!!
This story reminded me of when I first moved to MIAMI from Michigan and discoverd those things lived in apartments, not just on the pilings under the docks. In one apartment I lived in, the roaches held conventions at night on my bedroom floor. Talk about jumping at shadows - this is no joke - I did that for years! xxoomomooxx

Anonymous said...

I really hope you didn't die...let us know...

By the way, after she reads this Brooke may be so afraid that she will never go to your house again.

andrea_jennine said...

So, please tell me Molly is your dog or cat. Right? The first mention of Molly in the hallway had me thinking, "Wait. I don't think Amy and Aaron have a daughter named Molly. Maybe a houseguest?" And I still assumed Molly was a person when I read your updated paragraph. I couldn't fathom a child actually putting a roach in her mouth. Then I started to think, "Pet? Surely Molly is a pet." And my mental picture of the situation got a little less gross.

To contribute to the squeamish factor, a few months ago I woke up to a house centipede crawling across my ear and face. Just Google house centipede and shudder. (They're about 2 inches long, since pics don't give you scale.)

Amy said...

I'm still here, Adam. And, I wouldn't blame Brooke if she never came over again. I don't think we had this bad of a problem when we first moved in to the house! I still think it's very bizarre.

Andrea, your "eww" factor is much higher than mine. That's one of the things I "fear" from roaches, that they'll touch me. I shudder just thinking about it. I can't imagine any kind of creepy-crawly on my FACE!!! Ack.

And, yes, Molly is the cat! I didn't even think to clarify that! Pictures of her are forthcoming, as she's adopted a strange place/mode of sleeping lately.

By the way, there was another roach in the bathroom this morning. It was on its back, barely alive, but it was there. At this point I've stopped being surprised. And I've redoubled my inspections of every room I enter, every cabinet I open, every article of clothing I touch.

Angela said...

Did I tell you Jerry, the mouse, is dead. Not sorry, just sorry I was the one to discover the carcass.