Well, it is after midnight, and Roomie and I have just returned from the Miami adventure. The sixty degree temperature change was a lot less fun in reverse, but overall we had an amazing trip filled with palm trees, sunburns, Tequila, a 911 call made at 1:30 am to report a crime at our sketchy hotel, and boys. More on all that later.
So I walk in the door a half hour ago ready for a shower (nothing makes me feel grosser than a plane). I start the water and get in. My hair is halfway wet when all of a sudden a huge cockroach runs out from the folds of the shower curtain at my feet. I screamed, jumped backwards into the shower shelf (knocking over everything precariously perched on it) and ran out into the hallway.
We don’t see cockroaches often, but Sam once mentioned to me that if you see one cockroach it means there are 100 more living in the walls. Is this true? If so, maybe don’t tell me. I cant afford to move. Anyway, Roomie and I have seen about 5 in our two years of living here, and we are 5/5 at killing the supposedly invincible beasts. Thus far, we have…
- Drowned one in the sink
- Trapped one under a plastic bowl and left it there until it suffocated
- Sicced The Cat on one (who somehow killed and ate it despite having no teeth)
- Smashed one by waiting for it to run out from beneath the sofa and dropping one of our students textbooks on it
5. Sprayed one repeatedly with a mixture of bleach and carpet cleaner until its legs stopped moving
Now I am in my bed with my hair half wet and I’m just gonna sleep like this. The shower mood has been ruined. Nothing says welcome back to Brooklyn like vanquishing a cockroach in a towel.