I had my first run-in with a cockroach last night.
I hate big bugs. I mean, I really hate big bugs. When I see a spider or a centipede at home, I often screech, jump around, run out of the room, and request that Mike come to my rescue. When it comes to bugs, yes, I am a wimp.
I came back in to the guest house last night from having dinner at the HVO apartments. Many of my housemates were in the common area (I met most of them today and they are all super friendly) having coffee and watching television. I chatted with them for a bit, then headed to my room to shower and go to bed. When I opened my door, everything seemed in normal shape. However, when I turned on the light to the bathroom to start up the water (it takes almost 5 minutes for the water to get warm), a giant cockroach was waiting to greet me in the middle of the floor. My heart rate jumped up, I screeched quietly, and jumped out of the room. I peaked my head back around the corner, hoping the roach was just a figment of my jet-lagged brain. I was sadly disappointed. There sat the cockroach, still glaring at me from across the bathroom. Despite my usual routine in the US, I realized quickly that I must kill this creature before he disappeared and ended up in my bed in the middle of the night. I grabbed my tennis shoe, aimed at the roach, and whacked at it with all my might. And I missed. Awesome. So now the cockroach was angry and scared, sprinting around my bathroom with all it's might. But I was not about to let this post-apocalyptic creature have the best of me. No way. My second attempt at killing the roach was much more successful. I gave myself a little pat on the back and congratulated myself on a job well done.
Then, with a sinking heart, I realized that the job was only half-way done. I couldn't leave the dead roach in the middle of the floor, to freak me out for the rest of the night. So now I had to get rid of the dead bug, possibly a more difficult task than actually killing it. I smacked the roach a couple of more times for good measure, to make sure that it was good and dead. Then I searched around for a way to get it in to the trashcan without having to risk actually touching the thing. Toilet paper is a hot commodity around here, and I didn't want to risk the bug guts passing though the thin paper to my hands. Yuck. So the toilet paper option was out. Next I thought of trying to fling the bug in to the trashcan (on its side), but I worried that I would fling it directly at me, worsening the situation. And then an idea clicked. I bought gloves for use in the hospital, why not use those? Thank goodness for nitrile gloves. I put on two gloves (yes, two on one hand, you can never be too careful when dealing with dead cockroaches), moved the trash can over as close to the squished bug as possible, picked it up (yes, with my own hands!!), and placed in in the trashcan, slamming the lid shut for good measure. Crisis averted. Now I have a plan for next time (though let's hope that there isn't a next time)...
You could have titled this post "My narrow escape from the tiny antennae of death" - is that too long?
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