There was a roach in the bathroom last night, at least I’m pretty sure it was a roach. I wasn’t sure at first because its wings were sticking out from its body AS IF IT HAD JUST FINISHED FLYING. The fact that roaches can fly is something that I have tried desperately to suppress deep inside my brain. Recalling it brings to mind nothing but visions of hideous things flying directly toward my face. I shudder just thinking about it. Actually just the word roach grosses me out. Ew. I will not be using it again.

So when I saw it, the first thing I did was run to the kitchen to search for some Raid. Raid is pretty much one of my favorite inventions of all time. But I am house-sitting, and alas, there was none. I knew that I had to kill it or I wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I was faced with the prospect of getting close enough to squish it. It took me a couple of tries and a good ten minutes to face it, but squish it I did. Then it took me another ten minutes to get up the nerve to move it into the trash can, but move it I did. I think this particular bug was on its last legs anyway, because it mercifully didn’t put up much of a fight. Another reason I love David: he promises that when I live with him I won’t ever have to worry about bugs again.

I took a picture to share with you, but just looking at it afterwards gave me the shivers and I had to delete it. I immediately got flashbacks to the night one of these creatures crawled on me in bed while staying with my brother. Now THAT was traumatic.

This episode doesn’t sound like much, but it is the first time I have ever seen a roach in this house, a place that I have stayed many, many nights, and now I will always be worried about it. Any slight movement on the ground will make me jump. I think I’ve become more afraid of crawly things the older I’ve gotten. It’s pretty ridiculous because they can’t hurt me, but there it is: I’m afraid.