I was going to write some random little post about my weekend today but then something huge happened today. I killed my first roach.....ever.
Since I got married and have frequently been without my husband at home I have forced myself to learn dispatch flies, spiders, silverfish etc. Thankfully though I never had to kill a roach. We didn't have roaches in our place in Seattle (between that and the lack of mosquitoes it only further verifies my conviction that Seattle is one of the best cities on the planet). We did have a few roaches in our first Charleston apartment however I had either let those run back into the wall and then buy roach baits later or I even let our cat kill on once and then I made Nick discard the little roach remains when he got home. Otherwise I just ask Nick to kill them and I don't have a history of asking very gracefully.
One evening after we had been married and living in Charleston for several months Nick had gone to bed and washed up to hit the rack about 20 minutes later. As I was washing my face I saw what looked like a hair on the counter next to the little toothbrush holder. I went to brush it away but it wasn't there anymore. So I moved the holder and found that the "hair" I saw was really the antenna of a roach. I full on screamed. Like the type of scream straight out of a horror film. Then I ran into the bed room. Nick had already leaped out of bed from a dead sleep. When he tells the story he explains that my scream was so blood curdling that he fully expected to see me dead or at least without an arm. I told him there was a roach in the bathroom so Nick, still in nothing but his undies after being in bed, pulls on his black work socks and combat boots, grabs some raid, another random aerosol can, and heads into the bathroom to put some hurt on the roach. It was classic. We talked about it later and I said I understood the Raid and the boots but I didn't understand the other can of cleaner. He said he thought he could use it to beat the roach if things got real bad.
So skip some years later to this past Sunday. We are getting ready to hit the rack again when I step into our kitchen with the lights off to put a water glass on the counter when I see something scurry across the counter out of the corner of my eye. I suck in this huge gasp and Nick comes running again and I head into the bedroom to try and forget that I just found a roach on my KITCHEN COUNTER. Sadly the roach was to quick for Nick and it retreated to the cabinet from whence it came. Naturally, I called the leasing office and luckily for me their pest control guys was schedule to come by today. So this morning he came by and sprayed the kitchen and seriously no more than 10 minutes after he left I spy a roach crawling out of my kitchen. I froze. Do I try kill it or do I let it go about it's business? Maybe the cat will get it? Finally I scrambled to grab our can or Raid, took a deep breath and started spraying. Little jerk was fast but finally after about 4 or 5 missed shots I got it once. But it just started running in circles cause it was stunned and disoriented. So I went in for the final blow and unleashed holy hell on that little bug. Once it flipped on its back and its legs stopped moving I promptly squealed like a little girls and danced around in circles shaking my hands like I was trying to shake water off them and immediately called my husband. He didn't answer his phone so of course I called my dad. I didn't even say "Hi" I just blurted out, "I just killed a roach, what do I do?" He just laughed.
After staring at the little corpse for a few minutes I finally gave up the ghost and grabbed a dustpan, gingerly scooped it up and made my way to the trash. Here's hoping that the one roach was a fluke and we don't see anymore.