A Mom, a Blog, and the Life In-Between

Saturday, July 12, 2008

The Terror of the Night

I'm sitting here on my couch, with my legs up, huddled into a little ball of fear. I'm terrified to step down, to move, even, for it is at this hour that they come out.

The roaches. The damn, damn roaches. They are taking over my house, and I am their prisoner.

You need to know that I'm terrified of roaches. It's right up there with flying (roaches, flying and alligators: THE TRIFECTA OF TERROR). I have horrible childhood memories of roaches (nay, those huge, hideous Palmetto bugs that FLY) and am completely traumatized. Like the time when I was about 3 or 4 years old and we were all in my mom's bedroom because my dad was out of town and whenever he traveled we would all stay locked in my mother's room with her at night, and a large, evil roach flew, in, buzzed around our heads, smacked into the wall behind our heads, went into some kind of seizure and thrashed all over the room while we screamed and cowered in the bed. Or that other time when I was around 9 and was in the bathroom, setting up my cassette player so Barbie and I could sing and dance while we bathed, and as I'm settling in to the tub, adjusting the water, this hideous creature crawled up from the drain, walked right towards me, and backed me into a corner while I screamed in fear for my life.

I can't look at them, touch them, or be in the same room as them. In fact, I've been known to wake my father up at 3 in the morning so he can hunt down that evil roach that I just know is hiding underneath my bed, or in a corner somewhere, or in my closet. Many times. Throughout the course of my childhood and into my young adulthood.

And now, I live in an old house, with lots of plants/dirt/planters/grass surrounding said house. I also live in Miami, where it's hot and humid and currently the rainy season. You know what all this means? That I am a roach's dream come true. They see my house, and they're like, "Oh HAI, old house with lots of cracks to sneak in through. Move over, spiders, Palmetto mofos in the house!"

And so every night, as I'm trying to relax with some TV or a book or a long overdue email to my ~~prison pen pal~~ good friend, I inevitably glance around or try to get up for some milk or a nice, juicy mango, and BAM! there's one of them. Crawling ever so slowly across my living room. Approaching me. Trapping me. Disappearing under the very couch I'm sitting on.

This madness has to stop. I've taken to keeping a bottle of Raid within arm's reach, and I can't stand to use that kind of pesticide in my house. That's how desperate I am, though. I foolishly slacked on my preventive treatment (spraying a blend of water and clove oil all over the place every day), and now I'm paying the price.

I no longer have anyone to kill and dispose of roaches for me. Oh, I tried to get Max to do it, but all he does is point and squeal, "Mami, look! Bicho!!!!" And when I urge him to pummel it to pieces, he steps back and goes, "YOU do it!!" So much for that. And I suppose I could call my dad - I mean, he is just up the street - but you know, he's older now and does so much for me as it is... so I just can't.

That leaves me; me to be a big girl and take the roaches on by myself. And I thought, o.k., I can totally do this; I just point and spray, and throw some roach motels around and I'm done. But I failed to consider one thing: what do I do when the roach is dead? I mean, I can't pick that thing up! Not even with a paper towel or a bath towel or a comforter. It might not really be dead, you know. It's just pretending, so that when I lean in, it can jump up and attack my face. And that'll be the end of me!

As I ponder the cruel turn my life has taken, a couple of days pass and I accumulate one or two dead roaches, which I ignore as best as I can (and no, Max has not been here to witness any of this, and we must never tell him). I soon notice that there haven't been any more roaches trying to attack me, and I realize why: because of their dead compatriots.

So, those monsters get it. THEY KNOW. And with those dead roaches, I put them on notice: let this be a warning to you bitches! I don't mess around! The same fate awaits you if you cross my path! I will make examples out of all of you!!!!!!

And then yesterday, I realized I could just get the broom and dust pan and sweep them up. So I did. But they're out there, waiting. They'll be coming back. And I'll be terrified, curled up on my couch, but ready.

That's right: bring it on, bitches, 'cause I'm ready.

Labels: messes i get myself into, roaches

Posted by Tere @ 7/12/2008 | Permalink |

13 Comments

Balou posted at 7/12/2008 10:29 AM
I ahare the same fear, girl! My apartment complex has an exterminator that comes in and sprays once a month, Thank God!

But if I ever do have to kill a bug of any kind, I dispose of it in the toilet. just in case it comes back to life it'll be far, far away, swept away in a sewer drain!

slouching mom posted at 7/12/2008 10:43 AM
ok, that's it. i am NEVER living in Florida.

carlos miller posted at 7/12/2008 12:51 PM
"Mami, look! Bicho!!!!"

Hilarious.

Anonymous posted at 7/13/2008 4:09 AM
OMG Sorry...I lol'd so much at this post. I am exactly the same way (once I fought off a palmetto for 6 hours and I finally did it in with a yellow pages book)Good luck Tere!!!!
-cecilia

Joke posted at 7/13/2008 10:54 AM
I just stalk them like a sniper with the nozzle from my vaccum cleaner.

I hope the little fan inside the Electrolux causes them untold pain, too.

Hate 'em.

-J.

Michael posted at 7/13/2008 2:46 PM
Having lived between Atlanta and Orlando for the last 8 years, I know what you're talking about! They're fast and never go out without a fight. Damn them roaches!

In our first apartment in Atlanta, we made the mistake of living on the ground floor, and our upstairs neighbor was a horrible slob; we had roaches almost daily. On one occasion I remember leaving a trail of Raid from the kitchen through the living room and into the bedroom - The thing just wouldn't die!

I've since taken to using old magazines, because Raid doesn't work instantaneously, and then I prefer using the ShopVac to clean up what's left. Of course we also have an exterminator now, so very few are able to break through the shield o' chemicals that encircles the house.

Jenny posted at 7/14/2008 10:39 AM
When my BFF and I were traveling through Greece, we were once in this crappy old falling-apart train that had all the windows open to beat the heat. Well, the whole ride through, these HUGE (I mean MASSIVE) roaches kept flying into the train through the window and terrorizing the very packed in passengers. Well, Karin (BFF), the bad ass that she is, would CATCH THE ROACHES WITH HER HAND and throw them back out the window!!! She was the train hero.

Erin posted at 7/15/2008 11:26 AM
That is SO well written and brilliant! I had to laugh, especially since I could have written that myself! Oh, the horrors of these hideous creatures knows no bounds. I also live in South Florida, and I also suffer the paralyzing fear of these things. *shudder* I share your pain. You need to teach Max quickly that he must save you and kill those bugs though! I have dogs, and I'm hoping that they will develop a taste for them, so they can save me the horrors of ever seeing them. :)

Silver posted at 7/15/2008 3:39 PM
My thoughts exactly!
For the really icky ones that are pretending they're dead, already on their back, but as you go get them, you realize they're waving their little legs at you, I always go for the can of shaving cream.
The gel kind actually works best. Squirt a bunch of it right on top of the little bugger and smother him.
And then it foams up and you can't really see him when using the paper towels to wipe up. Be careful, sometimes floor slippery afterwards.

Tere posted at 7/15/2008 4:14 PM
I love all of you who can relate to this nightmare!!

And I'll have you all know - since I posted this, I've killed 3 more roaches.

Don't I get a medal or something for this?

Holly posted at 7/15/2008 6:00 PM
Ugh, I found a dead one in my house today -- the first in a long time. Those flying ones fa-reak me out! I think all this rain is driving them indoors.

Tere posted at 7/16/2008 1:32 AM
Yes, it's definitely the rain!

Hilda posted at 7/16/2008 12:53 PM
Tere...honey...hire an exterminator.

I can recommend one who's nice and reliable and inexpensive. Send me an e-mail message if you want the info.

Meanwhile, if you must kill one yourself, do what I do - drown the damn thing in Raid. Seriously mine don't die from the poison they drown. Then, suck the SOB up in your vacuum cleaner and wipe Raid Lake up with 17 scrunched paper towels.

:)