I have a deep and abiding fear of bugs, particularly those of the roach variety. When Fiddledaddy and I were dating, he once was horrified to find a petrified flattened roach on the door frame of my kitchen pantry.
“How long as that been there?”
“I don’t know, a year or two.”
“To serve as a warning to any of his roach family or friends. Don’t screw with me.”
So in reality he knew what he was getting long before he married me.
When I lived in Texas many years ago, I lived in a basement apartment with a band of flying roaches. Some called them water bugs, but that term frankly was a little too tame for me. These things were black, the size of a saltine, and would fly willy nilly into my hair with no provocation whatsoever.
It scarred me.
When we first moved to the sunshine state I heard rumors of bugs as big as your head so I made Fiddledaddy promise to make friends with a pest extermination company. We’ve had them come to our house yearly since we moved in.
And I can tell you that we’ve not had any pest issues. Save for the great plague of frogs from a couple of years ago. But they make no promises regarding amphibian foe. But this year we have had what I would call an infestation of roaches. And by infestation, I’m talking of maybe a dozen sightings in the last year. Just so we’re clear, this has nothing to do with the state of my housekeeping. Because I’ve been living with a bunch of slobs for years. Long before the roach invasion.
The pest control company have been dutifully coming to my aid when I’ve been spotting these critters in-between yearly visits. But I think that a particularly hearty variety of cockroach has taken up residence. The variety THAT WILL NOT DIE.
About a week ago I was straightening up the kid’s bathroom and just happened to look up. On the vent, directly above my head, was perched a roach about 3 inches in diameter, hanging upside-down.
All he needed to do was just LET GO, and I would have been featured on the evening news.
I may or may not have shrieked as I took one giant leap out of the bathroom. I haven’t made any sort of leap in years, btw. I summoned Fiddledaddy to take care of things, because that’s his duty. It’s in our marriage vows, section 42, article 9.
While I went to look for a gun, he assessed the situation. By the time I returned, he alerted me to the fact that the roach had disappeared back up into the vent. So he got out our Diatomaceous Earth, which is suppose to be like kryptonite for bugs, to spray up into the vent.
When we regained consciousness from the powdery fumes, we could see the industrial sized cockroach staring out from the vent. Mocking us. I could swear he was bigger.
A few times I’ve passed by the bathroom to see him hanging upside-down from the vent. And each time I threaten to send Fiddledaddy in with a flip flop, he disappears again.
Since the vent is located directly above the toilet, the women in the house have made a pact never ever to sit there again. Which is a dicey proposition when you have 5 people in the house and only two thrones.
I’ve come up with a solution.
When the going gets desperate. The desperate get creative.