Friday, January 7, 2011

made late by a roach

The day started off like any other day: Wake up, feed Blake, go back to sleep with Blake, put Blake in crib, shower, get ready, feed Blake again, talk to myself about the things I need to take to my doctor's appointment, see a roach...wait, a roach?

The following is the conversation I had in my head upon seeing know, all with Blake watching from his crib:

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh...ok, it's on its back so it must be dead. What kind of roach just likes to hang out on its back? Ok, so it's dead. I'm gonna grab my camera and take a picture of it so I can show my mom and sister just how big these things are. I mean, it's dead, it's not going anywhere, right? Zoom in, snap picture. Maybe I can just take care of it when I get back from my appointment. No, because if it's not really dead and I come home and can't find it, I will throw up. Ugh I'm going to have to pick it up with a paper towel and throw it away. Wait! I'll get the broom, sweep it into the dustpan, then throw it away. Ok, here we go. Careful, careful, (audible scream). It's not dead! It just moved! Oh gosh it's not dead! I'm going to have to step on it with my shoe. The last time I stepped on one of these the crunch was so loud I can still hear it in my mind. Maybe I should put on one of my snow boots. At least I'll be protected from anything roachy up to my calf. No, just do it with the shoes you have on. Ok, just do it. You can't let this one get away. I hate you, you stupid roaches! I won't let you ruin my liiiiiiiiiiiife! Ok, 1, 2, 3...I can't do it! Wait, I'll get the Raid! Yes, yes, the Raid! Point and spray....die you disgusting roach! DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!! (audible scream) Ewww it's twitching! Ok, now I'll sweep it into the dustpan, put it in this plastic bag, put it in the trashcan, and throw the trash away on my way out. Ugh you disgusting roach! You are making me late!

Yep, I took a picture of it. And yep, I thought about putting on one of my snow boots just to kill it. And yes, that stupid roach made me late to my doctor's appointment. But at least it's out of my house.

What did I learn from today's events? I have to take care of roaches a lot faster than I did today. It took me 10 minutes just to remember that I had a can of Raid in the kitchen. So here's the plan for future sightings...because I know there are going to be future sightings (shudder):

1) Scream
2) Grab can of Raid
3) Spray
4) Spray some more
5) Spray more just for good measure
6) Clean up mess

Now if only I could find a Raid holster to wear around the house...


Tori Wilding said...

Raid holster!!!! hhahaha! good idea! sorry you had to endure that!

Nina @ Momma Go Round said...

Love it! I'm a wuss about spiders so I can't imagine dealing with roaches! Dude, post the picture so we can all be disgusted with you.

Chelsea said...

Ya girl, next time I want a pic with you flexing muscles, raid can firmly attached to your side...with something...a belt, bra, whatever is handy....and the roach zipped tightly in it's baggy, twitching to death! You can do it!

vdg family said...

This is hilarious!!! I loved reading it.

I can relate. Speaking of which, I think I need a new can---eek!

Greta: From Transparencies of Motherhood said...

Ugh. I have a paranoia with roaches. Serious paranoia. I lived in Central America for 5 months and seriously had to walk through my bedroom each night killing the darn things until I couldn't find another one to kill, just so I could sleep (with a mosquito net over my head for fear I missed one and it would crawl in my mouth or ear while I slept). Ugh. Your story is all too familiar. But I love the idea of a raid holster;)

GR82BAMOM said...

At the recommendation of our mutual friend, Emily, on Facebook I read this post. Couldn't stop laughing! You did forget: 7) Open up all of the windows or gag from the nauseating smell of Raid. Hi, I'm Martha. We moved out the week you guys moved into the ward. If you don't mind, I would like to add your fun blog to my reading list.