I hate bugs... not just a little like normal people... I mean I really really can't stand them. The problem is not only do I not like them but I don't like killing them either. In the event that I do squish one the crunch of the body beneath my fingers makes me cringe. I usually run for the fly swatter so at least I don't have to touch it. I just want to stay as far away from them as humanly possible. I have always been this way. When I was little my mom and younger sister used to make fun of me for being afraid of a ladybugs in the house. What can I say? Bugs and I just don't get along well. This said... my husband is our household's designated bug killer. I only perform the task when absolutely necessary. If he is home... he gets to do it. Pest control also visits my house on a weekly-monthly basis depending on how bad the bugs are. This had been working fairly well and we were only occasionally finding bugs in the house...that is until hubby left.
I swear the bugs knew the minute he left. When I got home from the airport I suddenly found bugs everywhere. I found a maggot looking thing stuck in a spiderweb by the couch, ants in the sink, and two big cockroaches in the garage. Let me take this opportunity to mention that the area where I live grows bugs BIG. In the town where I am originally from three inch long cockroaches are a thing of myth and horror. Here however, you mention this to the pest guy and he laughs and says he has seen bigger. No really. I am not joking or exaggerating. Since summer arrived giant cockroaches have sprung up everywhere much to my horror. Not only are these nasty things giant in size but they are also very difficult to kill. Hitting one multiple times with a fly swatter does virtually nothing and once my hubby even stepped on one in attempt to kill it only to watch it run off as soon as he lifted up his shoe. I cringe just thinking of it.
I knew that I was going to have to step up to the plate and learn to take care of the bugs myself now that hubby was gone but I still didn't relish the task. I got out the fly swatter and the vacuum and resigned myself to the task. That night I was feeling accomplished and pretty proud of myself for the way I had handled everything. I was sitting on the couch watching TV when all of the sudden I heard the tell tale chirp of a cricket. "Seriously?" I asked out loud, to no one in particular. "You have got to be kidding." "I need you hubby, I hate bugs!" <Sigh> I knew I wasn't going to feel at ease again until I had killed the thing not only because it would continue to chirp but because I have an irrational fear that it will find me and crawl on me as I sleep. I know it's crazy but what can I say? I admit it's irrational. So anyway, I get off the couch and begin looking for the cricket. I finally spot him only to see him scamper under the TV where I can't reach him. So what did I do? Like a person possessed I sat on the couch watching TV, fly swatter in hand, until he finally came out and I could get him. It only took an hour or so. Time to bed? Slightly after 1am. Bugs 0 - Army Wife X 1. Mission Accomplished.
Call it another one of my weird "husband just left quirks" but I always have strange sleep patterns when hubby is gone. I got into the habit of staying up to the small hours of the morning and sleeping in late. A few days later I was baking cookies (one of my hobbies) at midnight. Yes, midnight. Don't ask me why. I just felt like it. Everything was going well. The cookies were cooling on the counter and I was signing along with a song that I had playing on my computer. As the song on my computer changed I decided I wanted a drink from the fridge. As I crossed the hallway from the office where I was sitting to the kitchen I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks. Even thinking about it now makes me cringe. As I looked on one of the giant cockroaches, that I had until then only seen outside and in the garage, ran from the edge of my sink, and down the edge of my counter straight towards my cooling freshly baked cookies. "OK. Don't freak out." I said to myself. I ran to the other side of the kitchen to grab the fly swatter. I hit the disgusting thing off of the counter and onto the floor. "Whack! Whack!" I hit it twice with the swatter. The roach ran under the stove. "Shit!" Now what? I knew I wasn't going to be able to go to bed now until I had done something. But What? I couldn't get it with the swatter under the stove and that hadn't worked anyway. I also could not figure out how to move the stove. So I did the only thing I could think of. I ran to get the vacuum and a flashlight. I put the longest attachment possible on the vacuum hose so I wouldn't have to get too close to the end and sat on the floor near the stove. Crouching down I shone the flashlight under the stove trying to see the roach. I finally thought I spotted him in the corner between the stove and the cabinet. I turned on the vacuum and stuck the narrow hose attachment under the stove. After moving it around blindly for a minute or two I suddenly heard a "FWAMP" sound. I immediately pulled the hose out and put the end to the floor to make sure that whatever I had sucked up ended up in the sealed vacuum bag where it would be unable to get out and would subsequently die. After leaving the hose to the floor for at least a minute I shone the light back under the stove. Nothing. Satisfied that I had gotten the roach I put the vacuum away, vacuum head attached to ensure that it would not be able to crawl out, and put the cookies away. My hubby should be proud. I also vowed to call pest control again first thing the following morning.
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