Living by yourself, especially as a woman, there are countless moments where you find self-assurance and great accomplishment in the completion of the minutest of tasks. Hell, putting together a futon made me feel like I could have built the sphinx. However, with that said, there is also the occasional moment where you find yourself wishing you had an extra hand around the house. For instance, oh i don't know, maybe like when you find yourself in the midst of a mexican standoff with a cockroach!
So, there I was one fine evening, minding my own business, attempting to take care of some school work, when I casually looked up from my book to see a rather large and suspicious figure looking up at me from the table. Yes folks, it was. . .a cockroach. The little fucker had me so scared I couldn't move for ten minutes, then I realized I had to take action before he got away and rallied his friends to come attack. I slowly closed the textbook sitting in my lap, raised it and slammed it down. Freaked out by the fact that the man cave had been invaded by one of these disgusting little suckers and scared shitless at the idea that by some chance he had survived the impact and would come out from the shadows to seek revenge, I piled every book I could find on top of the one I had used as a weapon and quickly grabbed my sweater and purse and fled the scene of the crime.
My heart was racing as I flew down the street, making a direct bee line for the 24 hour grocery where I was determined to find a stronger, more effective weapon than a marketing textbook. I stood in the "home and hardware" aisle for at least a good 15 minutes staring at a wall full of bug bombs, roach sprays and flea traps, trying to figure out my next move. Then, all of a sudden a little Spanish man appeared and began to finger through the various bottles of Raid before picking up the one that I had sitting in my basket. Ah hah! I had found a man who held the answers to all my questions! I creepily inched towards him and smiled. When he smiled back my diarrhea of the mouth caught up with me as I spilled the entire story of my evening and asked him just how effective this spray stuff would be. While he stared at me with "well ya freakin weirdo" eyes, he assured me that the spray should be fine but if I really wanted to make sure those suckers weren't coming back I should invest in the bug bomb. As I went on reading the bug bomb labels, my poor little bewildered friend fled the aisle and left me to my own internal debate about just how badly I wanted to make sure these little suckers knew who was the boss of apartment 204. After another 20 minutes of deliberation, I finally decided that Raid would be my weapon of choice (not so much because I didn't think that the bug bomb was necessary, but more so because have you ever read the back of those things?! I was too afraid that I was going to wind up exterminating myself in the process). So, I made my purchase and began the walk home, when my stomach began to twist. What if he survived? What if his family found him dead and now they were going to seek revenge? I couldn't go back. They were waiting. So, I went to Starbucks to prolong my return. I even debated going to a movie. Hell, the thought of surrendering the apartment all together and letting the roaches take over even crossed my mind. Then, I slapped myself back to reality, put on my big girl panties and walked home.
When I finally got to the door, it took me a good few minutes to actually bring myself to revisit the scene of the crime, but as I entered it seemed as though all was as I had left it. I quickly whipped out the Raid before I even had a chance to remove my sweater and began spraying every doorway, window and corner of the apartment. When the job was done, I sat down on my futon (that I built with my bare hands) and took a look around the man cave. I had defended myself against the roaches without help from anyone. I was going to be okay. I'm telling you its those little things that give you the confidence necessary to take on the greater things in life (even though I continue to fully Raid the apartment once a week and it took me a good two weeks to actually lift the books that had killed the little guy and deal with the scene of the massacre.)
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