Karma moved quickly.
Jul. 10th, 2008 04:37 pmSo last Monday, I was out in the field with my Irish co-worker Anne-Marie. A-M is great fun to work with, partly because she's just fun & funny, but partly because she finds the great American outdoors to be just slightly overpopulated with what she calls "the damn creepy-crawlies". We rarely get through a day without A-M having some heart-racing encounter with Mother Nature, in her less-than-perfectly-domesticated New World guise.
It was late afternoon Monday & we were closing down at a site that had a wooded perimeter. To me, it was a familiar summer sound when the cicadas (or locusts, or whatever they are -![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladybugbutt, a little help here?) started in with their buzzing chorus. I think most American readers have heard this sound: it starts low, then as more & more insects in surrounding trees join in, it increases in volume, sometimes seeming to move through the trees, & then dropping back off. I noted it, but didn't think anything more of it until I saw A-M absolutely rooted to the spot. "WHAT IS THAT?!?" she demanded, staring at the trees in the beginning of a full-blown panic. I tried to explain, "It's nothing, it's just insect noise", but she was having none of that. "It's aliens! It's like something out of Space Invaders! Christ on a bike, this country is just too much!" & she was off, ranting about our disease-carrying ticks, poison ivy, venomous spiders, camouflaged snakes, not to mention our extreme weather & trigger-happy cops. Meanwhile, we're packing up at double speed, & I'm laughing my head off at this melodious fountain of vituperation. As we're leaving the site, I asked her what she would've done if she had been out there by herself when the noise started. She replied, "I would've screamed my head off, driven away like a house on fire, & then filled out an incident report explaining that I had been attacked by bears."
Cue more maniacal laughing on my part.
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So on Tuesday,hotpantsgalore got the exterminator to visit our apartment. We've had a slight roach problem, usually amounting to one, maybe two, little cockroaches being killed in the kitchen every day. They are the little ones, less than a quarter-inch long, easily crushed. But annoying & persistent, still popping by to visit even when all the dishes are washed, food stowed, & counters scrubbed. I understand that they are attracted to sources of water, like our damp dish sponges or dripping sink faucets.
Wednesday night, when I went into the kitchen to wash up the evening's dinner dishes, the kitchen was BESET by roaches. I can only assume that the exterminator's visit had driven them out of their hidey-holes. I killed a dozen or so in quick order, but I was completely grossed out by the invasion & went into a cleaning frenzy.hotpantsgalore wisely retreated to bed, leaving me to work out my angst with some Comet & a scrubby sponge.
When I finally had re-cleaned the already-clean kitchen & was feeling calm enough to go to bed, I went into the bathroom, took out my lenses, & started brushed my teeth. I spit out the toothpaste, got a mouthful of the mouthwash, & then leaned over the sink to spit the mouthwash. Mind you, I leaned over rather close to the sink, because without my lenses I can't see very well, so I get real close so I don't accidently spit mouthwash onto the faucets.
At the exact moment I was bent over the sink, a GIGANTIC cockroach crawled straight up out of the drain. I SCREAMED, the girliest scream I have ever uttered, & spit mouthwash all over the disgusting vermin. It scuttled around in the sink (possibly confused by the mouthwash assault) as I raced into the kitchen to get the bug spray. I nuked it with about 5,000 gallons of Raid, & then stood in the bathroom hyperventilating (probably inhaling more bug spray than was good for me) & trying to get my heart rate to drop below 300 beats per minute. At this point, a sleepyhotpantsgalore emerges from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. "What are you screaming about?" she asks in an irritated voice. I say, "F- f- fucking cockroach" & point at the carcass in the sink. She gives it half a glance, & says, "Yeah, that's how big they are in Texas." Back to sleep.
I sat up reading for the next million years & I don't believe I'm ever going to sleep again. F- f- fucking cockroaches.
It was late afternoon Monday & we were closing down at a site that had a wooded perimeter. To me, it was a familiar summer sound when the cicadas (or locusts, or whatever they are -
ladybugbutt, a little help here?) started in with their buzzing chorus. I think most American readers have heard this sound: it starts low, then as more & more insects in surrounding trees join in, it increases in volume, sometimes seeming to move through the trees, & then dropping back off. I noted it, but didn't think anything more of it until I saw A-M absolutely rooted to the spot. "WHAT IS THAT?!?" she demanded, staring at the trees in the beginning of a full-blown panic. I tried to explain, "It's nothing, it's just insect noise", but she was having none of that. "It's aliens! It's like something out of Space Invaders! Christ on a bike, this country is just too much!" & she was off, ranting about our disease-carrying ticks, poison ivy, venomous spiders, camouflaged snakes, not to mention our extreme weather & trigger-happy cops. Meanwhile, we're packing up at double speed, & I'm laughing my head off at this melodious fountain of vituperation. As we're leaving the site, I asked her what she would've done if she had been out there by herself when the noise started. She replied, "I would've screamed my head off, driven away like a house on fire, & then filled out an incident report explaining that I had been attacked by bears."Cue more maniacal laughing on my part.
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So on Tuesday,
hotpantsgalore got the exterminator to visit our apartment. We've had a slight roach problem, usually amounting to one, maybe two, little cockroaches being killed in the kitchen every day. They are the little ones, less than a quarter-inch long, easily crushed. But annoying & persistent, still popping by to visit even when all the dishes are washed, food stowed, & counters scrubbed. I understand that they are attracted to sources of water, like our damp dish sponges or dripping sink faucets.Wednesday night, when I went into the kitchen to wash up the evening's dinner dishes, the kitchen was BESET by roaches. I can only assume that the exterminator's visit had driven them out of their hidey-holes. I killed a dozen or so in quick order, but I was completely grossed out by the invasion & went into a cleaning frenzy.
hotpantsgalore wisely retreated to bed, leaving me to work out my angst with some Comet & a scrubby sponge.When I finally had re-cleaned the already-clean kitchen & was feeling calm enough to go to bed, I went into the bathroom, took out my lenses, & started brushed my teeth. I spit out the toothpaste, got a mouthful of the mouthwash, & then leaned over the sink to spit the mouthwash. Mind you, I leaned over rather close to the sink, because without my lenses I can't see very well, so I get real close so I don't accidently spit mouthwash onto the faucets.
At the exact moment I was bent over the sink, a GIGANTIC cockroach crawled straight up out of the drain. I SCREAMED, the girliest scream I have ever uttered, & spit mouthwash all over the disgusting vermin. It scuttled around in the sink (possibly confused by the mouthwash assault) as I raced into the kitchen to get the bug spray. I nuked it with about 5,000 gallons of Raid, & then stood in the bathroom hyperventilating (probably inhaling more bug spray than was good for me) & trying to get my heart rate to drop below 300 beats per minute. At this point, a sleepy
hotpantsgalore emerges from the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. "What are you screaming about?" she asks in an irritated voice. I say, "F- f- fucking cockroach" & point at the carcass in the sink. She gives it half a glance, & says, "Yeah, that's how big they are in Texas." Back to sleep.I sat up reading for the next million years & I don't believe I'm ever going to sleep again. F- f- fucking cockroaches.
