So, I have to admit that I've been feeling a bit smug about the West Coast lately. I'll spare you the irritating details but on one account. I couldn't help noticing the lack of crunchy, leggy, flying, tentacular critters in my apartment and in general. My main joy: NO BEHEMOTH COCKROACHES. There are no spiders lurking in the most sacred of places: underneath the toilet paper, on your pillow, or in your high heel shoes. There are no scurrying roaches fleeing to the nether corners of your kitchen when you come home after a night of carousing.
After this morning, I would gladly accept wee little cockroaches back into my life. As I awoke this morning, to another humidity-free, sunshiney day, I rose, yawned and proceeded to the bathroom. Keep in mind that I did not yet have my contacts in, and so all was a nebulous blur. I pulled back the shower curtain to raise the blinds and allow that beautiful sun to enter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark spot on my otherwise white porcelain tub. I always checked for enormous spiders or camel crickets in Charlotte and Athens, but out here? In this bug-free world? Well, I would put my glasses on just to be sure. Oh horrors! Oh disgust! Oh utter revulsion. My god, what was that thing????!!!!!! I won't even describe it, so it won't haunt your nightmares as it now is going to haunt mine. Too many legs to count; which end was it's head? I don't know, but then there was an epic battle between it and me. I wielded that retractable shower-head like a deadly weapon. That thing held on with all its multitudinous legs. The reservoir drained before its clutches finally slipped. It still remains in the metal drain in my tub. I'm afraid to touch it. Whiskey might be required.
shell-shocked,
Erin
