Friday morning, I was sitting peacefully on my couch with my laptop, laughing in my head about the post I was writing about my kid's teacher, when I sneezed. In doing so, I looked up from the screen and something was moving in my peripheral vision. To my horror, there was a cockroach crawling on the curtains behind me and the morning sun had cast a shadow the size of a small cat on the seat beside me. This is what it looked like:
I let out a scream that I know sounded like a mountain lion. It took all that I had not to throw the laptop across the room. Instead, I got up quickly and slipped my shoes on and went to get the Raid I had bought last year after this happened out from under the kitchen sink. I ran back into the den, took aim, and sprayed. The little demon jumped off the curtains (he probably fell, but in my mental state at the time, he jumped) and ran behind the couch. Try for a moment to get the proper image in your head, of me standing there wild-eyed, with messy hair, holding a can of petroleum based bug spray with my eyes darting back and forth. Now I start flipping the sections of couch over looking for the freaky little horror that has now successfully ruined my morning. I saw him a couple of times and screamed like a banshee again and sprayed and sprayed.
My husband woke up and found the den in total disarray (even more so than when the kids have been at it) with couch sections virtually piled upon one another and me crouching with bug spray looking like a feral animal who has been cornered. He asked me what was going on and I started crying and pointing to the torn up couch. Through all of my blubbering, all he could weed out was "I can't find it!!" He thought I had lost something before his half asleep brain registered the bug spray. Then, because he is the best husband in the world, he helped me hunt. We took this opportunity to vacuum under the couch and pick up all the toys, books and papers that had accumulated under there (well, he did -- I was too freaked out to move any paper with anything but my shoe for fear of the creature running up my arm). The amount of adrenaline coursing through my system probably could have fueled a small city. We looked everywhere and could not find the offensive fiend.
My husband tried to reassure me that I had gotten it with the bug spray and that it had most likely skittered up into the couch and died. This was the WRONG thing to say to me. The thought of that THING inside my couch where I sit and type on my laptop, where my kids sit or lay down and take naps, was horrifying to me. I wanted to rip the cloth off the bottom of the couch and search for it. Luckily, my husband talked me out of it. We did find the offensive creature in the kitchen, belly-up, legs curled in and dying. He had gotten past us, but I had wounded him with the Raid, and he was a goner. My husband picked it up in a paper towel and put it into the trash and then helped me set the den back in order, and then he went back to bed. (The 2 and 4 year old had slept through all of the drama -- amazingly.)
I have seriously used up my crazy quotient over the past 2 weeks. There better not be any big messes or anymore bugs for awhile or else I will be looking out for the men in white coats. It doesn't matter how justified I think my freak outs are, because....ya' know....I'm nuts.
2 comments:
I grew up in the city and these were always around no matter what my mom did. They are disgusting creatures and I would have done the same thing. They give me the hibbie gibbies.
I had to block the picture and scrolled down quickly. I felt like he was on my computer. eek!!
Your husband is a good man. He took the vile creature away.
Abbie
Yuck! I tried not too look. A long time ago right after college, I had an apartment that no matter how many times we bombed the kitchen, they would come back. It was like they would go the neighbors and then come back and they would bomb and then it was this neverending cycle!
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