Thought of the day
I hate them. I despise them with a genuine, heartfelt passion (I am actually just shit scared of them, really). Even a mere thought of them makes me cringe and gag and sweat buckets. I can take spiders and snakes and rats and drug dealing and gun wielding gangsters. I don’t mind politicians either. Well, I mind them (some of them) but I am not scared of them. I am okay with geckos, I can handle toads and frogs and mice and most other creepy crawlies.
But present me with a cock*OnMyWordSaveMe!*roach and I turn into this shrieking, screaming, for air gagging panic chick supreme edition on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It is truly something I cannot control, my cockroach phobia. I just can’t. I even have problems with dead cockroaches (but don’t tell anyone).
From the moment I notice that I am sharing my space with one of those ugly wiggly creatures with their antennas and legs and wings and more legs and more wings I simply lose my self control, composure, common sense and marbles. All of them, sometimes with painful consequences. Take last night. Thanks to one of those filthy, nasty monsters, my right hand is busted.
Tragedy struck when one of my cats came running in, chasing something I immediately recognized as one of the beast-I-detest-so-very-much. I, at said moment, was standing at the door which leads to balcony when cat & roach came running in.
In an attempt to get away from the Monster of all Monsters I turned around and ran away at high speed. I unfortunately forgot about the couch, went airborne, ninja chopped my way thought the empty void and landed on the coffee table (which is made of solid wood).
The events have left my right hand swollen and blue and rather painful – sprained but not broken (thanks god).
My Better Half found it intensely entertaining how I, while almost passing out because of the pain, ordered him to go to the lounge to “find and kill the sonofabitch, now!”.
It does not end here.
While we were lying in bed, me with my hand on ice, I heard something suspicious on the bamboo roller blinds above our heads. It was as if something with many legs and many antennas and many wings was crawling up there.
According to Boyfriend Dearest it was just the wind. “Stop worrying and go back to sleep,” I was told after he closed the windows. I am a Taurean, thus stubborn (I have to reluctantly admit), thus I did not trust the situation when the noise continued.
If he could please have a look, I asked.
To keep a long story short: the noise I heard had come from a *MASSIVE* cockroach the size of a small house. Better Half eventually, after a short chase through the bedroom which led him under the bed, found and killed the culprit. I in the meantime had sought refuge in the bathroom, far away from the Threat.
Where does this story go? Nowhere really. Well, apart from the fact that this story has probably travelled all the way to Better Half’s office and his favorite local pub and the ladies of his favourite lunch place and beyond 🙂