Roaches

The three monstrous roaches i killed in the basement were big and gross enough to (almost) make me move back to Washington.

I went downstairs to get a much needed glass of ice water, when i turn on the light and see a two inch black hard bodied roach and the queen of all wasps doing a mating dance on the white portion of our black and white checkered tiled floors. i think about avoiding them and going back upstairs. but i'll know they're there. waiting, in the darkness. waiting, for...whatever roaches wait for.

so i suck it up and grab a can of roach killer for the laundry room. i read the directions. "Spray 12 inches away from surface." I go right up to the little buggers and spray at them from as close as I'm willing to get to them. it's about 10 inches. damnit. they separate. i'm forced to spray one, then the other. the waspy-thing gets away under the black reclining chair under the wall of mismatched coffee cups. but the other one, the monster roach, is mine. i can see its back legs start to freeze up, and it's desperately trying to drag itself to safety on two little front legs. it's no use. i spray it again from 4 inches away; it's less scary now that it's dying. lying in a puddle of chemically smelling killer juice, the bug twitches its final death rattle and stops moving.

that was a close one. as i ponder how to pick up the corpse, i turn to put the bottle of bug spray back in the laundry room. another roach scuttles out in front of me. i jump. shit! how many of these things are down here? i run after it with the spray. it dies faster than the first. turning on my heel, scanning the floor for any more creepy-crawlies, i spy a third roach in the corner next the to the large chalkboard where we sign up for cooking dinner. i spray this one, and it runs toward my vulnerable, exposed feet. i vigorously spray it from my direction, causing it to run the opposite way. my heart is pounding. my eyes dart from side to side, looking for anything moving, anything trying to hide in the squares of black that dot the kitchen floor. i imagine that my spraying has awoken every roach in the basement, and that they are all running toward me in the center of the room, trying to escape the poisonous fumes. i quickly grab my glass and fill it with ice cubes, carefully trying not to use the finger i used to press the button on the spray can.

i look around the kitchen. it looks like a battlefield. corpses litter the ground. how to dispose of the bodies? I go back to the laundry room, replace the bottle of spay and grab a dustpan and a broom. i sweep up the first little bugger, push the dustpan across the room and push the second one in. i catch a glimpse of another dead bug, but one that i didn't kill. i shudder at the thought of stepping on it and not even knowing, not hearing the crunch or seeing the guts spill out the cracks in its armor.

i touch it with my broom to scoop it into the dustpan, and it flies into the nearest dark place. i rush past that part of the kitchen and sweep up the third one. should i just leave it here? i wonder. i don't want to pick it up. haven't i done enough? i mean, i killed them, didn't i?

in the end, i dump the bugs in the trash but can't bear to be in the roach infested kitchen any longer and i leave the broom next to the garbage. i turn out the light, grab my water, and run up the groaning, squeaking stairs to the third floor, where the biggest problem is tiny ants exploring my room for crumbs and forgotten packs of raisins in my backpack. without my glasses on, i can't even see them, and i don't know if i step on them.

this i can handle.