My name is Rachel and I hate bugs January 28, 2011
Clarence told me that at this point everyone understands my hatred for bugs…especially huge cockroaches. Still, I can’t NOT share this story. In my head this is what happened: There was a cockroach conference meeting sometime last week. The CEO stood up and announced while pounding his antenna on the table “What are we going to DO about Rachel? She leaves in a month. The time to attack is now!” The discussions went round and round.
“We could block her path to the front door!”
“That’s been done.”
“We could scare her when she goes to throw something away by flying out of the garbage!”
“Again, it’s been done. Think creatively, insects!”
Suddenly the yoda cockroach clears his throat from the back of the room. Silence envelops the group as they wait for his inevitable words of wisdom. His soft voice whispers the most perfect plan:
“We could touch her. That will be her worst nightmare.”
And I’m sorry to say they carried through on this evil scheme. Let me set the stage. It’s 7pm on Thursday night. I’ve just finished my Zumba workout (which is super fun and you all need to try). Clarence had called me on skype and I told him to sit put while I jumped in the shower. Little did I know the terror that waited ahead. I turned on the shower, disrobed (sorry, but this is the natural order of things people), and jumped inside. Immediately I saw a huge cockroach on the wall in front of me. So OF COURSE I screamed. And jumped out of the shower not paying attention to where the cockroach scurried to.
After composing myself I glanced around trying to find it. I figured it would be easier if I was covered up, so I grabbed the towel off the rack. Then….
*shudder*
…to my dismay, the cockroach had hidden behind the towel. So as it was pulled hurriedly from the rack, the cockroach came with it and flew directly towards me. It was like slow motion. Out of the corner of my eye I see a dark shadow. It is too late to do anything. It lands on my arm. I scream and flail and generally go completely insane. It falls to the floor. I am still screaming and flailing.
I’ll spare you the rest of the story. It basically involved a lot of me trying to gather courage to kill it, Clarence telling me to just do it already (and laughing at me), and ultimately it scurrying off w/o being killed.
So I’ve lived to tell another tale. I’d rather not have to tell it, but that is life in the tropics, my friends. One more month. I can make it one more month. Then no more huddling in corners, gripping brooms, and muttering “why is this my life?”.
