Defending Hearth and Home

JP is out of town at his home office working 16 hour days and missing us like crazy, but lest you feel bad for him as I almost did this evening when his exhausted voice cracked over the phone line as he said I love you before falling asleep while still on the phone with me (and during a riveting story I was telling), you should know that I just defended my home and family against the BIGGEST roach that has ever existed.  I can say this with some authority.  There's a horrifying giant roach exhibit at the Fort Worth zoo and we were just there this weekend and this roach was BIGGER.  Bigger and ON MY BATHROOM WALL.

There I was, about to brush my teeth and go to bed early in preparation for morning #3 of solo parenting and a big meeting that I need to get to work early to prepare for.  Then I saw it.  A many-inch spiny leggy possibly winged brown COCKROACH at eye level on the wall behind me.

I screamed.  Then I was covered in goose bumps.  Then it moved.  It moved behind my beautiful steel blue towels that hang on my pretty towel rack that I picked out so lovingly a few short months ago and now must burn because ROOOOOOACH.  Roach behind and in between and touching my towels.  Once I regained the powers of speech and movement, I did what any mature, strong, independent woman would do.

I called my husband 170 miles away and demanded that he fix the situation.  I woke him up, which I'm sure he did not appreciate, but he tried to walk me through the fine art of throwing a shoe at a roach.  But no, I said, I can't throw a shoe at it.  For one, which shoe?  I have none I wish to sacrifice and yours are big and heavy and might hurt my wall. Also, this thing might be some sort of roach mammal hybrid that is going to be squishy and I don't want to stain my walls.  Also ALSO, there's no way in fucking hell I'm getting within arm's reach of that thing.  I wouldn't even pass by it on the other side of the bathroom, choosing instead to run back behind the bathroom through our closet any time I wanted to switch my angle of approach.

Fine, JP finally said, just leave it there and go to sleep.

What?! No, no no NO, the roach might leave the towels and decide to come snuggle with me and ohmygod my goose bumps are worse and I think I might throw up.  Also, I'm crying now.  WHY ARE YOU NOT HERE?!

I went digging around under our sink looking for toxic chemicals I could spray at it from a distance.  Lurking in the back I found an old can of raid, possibly left here by the previous owners (hmmm).  I approached the towels and laid down the trigger finger.  The roach fell to the ground.  I screamed, ran away, and then cautiously walked back.  I sprayed again.  And again.  And again.  Until the roach was covered in white poisonous foam.

Then it moved.

I screamed, loudly, nearly lost my balance, ran into Tex, which made me scream again (ZOMG 90lb FURRY ROACH!), and evacuated to the family room.

JP, who was still on the phone, decided I had the situation well in hand and bid me good night.  His parting words, "just smash it with a shoe, scoop it up, and throw it out.  Love you."

I sprayed the roach again and waited.  All its little limbs kept moving and it looked like it was trying to flip over and I realized I had to do it.  I had to smash.  I prepared carefully, gathering several plastic trash can liners, a running shoe (JP's, of course, I wanted him to be part of the experience), an old cloth diaper,  paper towels, Clorox spray, and the can of raid.  I encased the shoe in one plastic bag, laid a big paper towel over the still moving roach, closed my eyes, stretched out my arm (also encased in a plastic bag) as far as possible and smacked.  I barely restrained the urge to throw-up and then I used the cloth diaper to pick up the remains without ever touching, seeing, or feeling anything, and wrapped up all of that in another plastic trash bag and sealed it (I was not putting it past this roach to reanimate later).  Then I disinfected the area with Chlorox, carefully removed my plastic bag gloves, and added all that to yet another trash bag and then took it all outside to the big trash bin that will be picked up tomorrow morning.

On the way down our front walk, trash bags in hand, I suddenly became irrationally afraid of the cricket sounds that I swear were doubling in volume with every step I took.  I ended up running the rest of the way down the walk, throwing the bags in the bin, and racing back into the house and slamming the door.  Tex was right there, ready to guard my back as I entered, but, not understanding the threat of the giant roach or the noisy crickets, he looked genuinely confused at what he was guarding me from.

And now, I'm in bed, covers up to my chin, lights on because I'm afraid to turn them off, running on adrenaline and thinking I need a shot or three of tequila to calm down, but afraid to leave the bed because I'm now 1000% certain that every microscopic imaginary twinge I feel on my skin is a giant reanimated cockroach.  I keep shuddering and I'm concerned I'm having some sort of nervous breakdown.  The biggest roach in Fort Worth history was on my bathroom wall and I took it down.  If I wasn't covered in goose bumps and having a psychotic event over the whole thing, I might be proud of my ability to defend my home.

Instead, I'm thinking of moving.