the enemy

I've already told this story a few times, but I think its hilarious- so here ya go:

Tuesday night, I was sitting on the edge of my tub shaving my legs. Once I was finished, I got up to turn on the water. Pulling back the shower curtain, I was startled by a BIG FAT ROACH. It's been raining in my area, and the bugs are probably trying to figure out what to do with themselves, and this roach the length of a credit card (my friend Todd says, Jen, 3 inches is the size of a credit card! Are you sure it was 3 inches? Yes, Todd, it was) is hanging out on my wall. This means, he was there the entire time I was shaving my legs- hovering above me. GROSS! Anyway, I shut off the water and jump out of the shower. I'm half covered in shaving cream and I had to cover up (why? I live by myself, I don't know-).

I ran out of the bathroom and started scanning my bookshelf. I was not going to let this roach get away and run loose in my place. I had no one else to do it for me, and I certainly wasn't getting the cat involved. Anyway, looking at my books, I can't figure out which one I would part with. Anything touching the roach would be destroyed shortly thereafter. I couldn't choose a book, so I moved to magazines. Nope, too flimsy. Then, I turned to see my pile of Press Enterprises. I knew my subscription was good for something! I rolled one up and went to my kitchen for more supplies. I needed a shield, just in case. I picked up the dust pan and made my way to the bathroom.

I look at the wall, no roach. I pull back the curtain- no roach. Pulled it back more, and there it was- repositioning itself. I was praying the roach would walk closer to over the tub so it would fall that way and not around the toilet. God heard me, and the roach started to move. I took the newspaper, whacked the ginormous bug, and ran out. I grabbed a plastic Target bag and came back in for the sweep. There it was- dead on the bottom of my tub. I take the newspaper and scoot it into the bag.

It started RUNNING AROUND!! Whack I hit it again. Second attempt at the scoop, and again, it started running in circles. Whack whack whack. Dead? No. Of course not. I get it, now, what they say about roaches. I wasn't about to clean up bug guts, so I knocked it silly until I was able to scoop it into the bag. I gave it another swat for good measure, tossed in the newspaper, and tied the bag. I ran it to my front porch and threw it near the rest of my trash bags I was about to take out.

Roaches, being the peculiar indestructible creatures they are, had me freaked out for the rest of the night. I pictured opening the front door to see the roach staring me down, as if it was out for revenge. Or at least just a good talk about the wrong I had done. But that didn't happen- and I'll just be on my toes for the duration of my stay in that apartment.