Dammit All to Hell

It's 3:08 a.m. I was just about to fall asleep and heard a rustling coming from the closet. I looked to my left. My cat was there. I grabbed the flashlight (that I happened to have in bed, because my new bedroom layout didn't allow for my bedside lamp to be plugged in and I've been too lazy to rig it any other way) looked to my right and a giant cockroach was making a mad dash for my bed. Then he flipped over on his back and started flailing his legs wildly in the air. Knowing he was too injured to chase me (hey, it's happened before), I jumped out of bed and looked for the bug spray, only to notice it was between me and the big guy.

I tried to direct the cat from the bed to the floor, tempting her with the flashlight, but she just stared at me, who had also begun to flail wildy. (Seriously, why do these things only happen when I'm naked?)

Realizing the cat was of no fucking use to me in this time of crisis, I ran to the kitchen to get a heavy Pyrex lid to put over the intruder, but realized that would actually require getting close enough to be accurate with the placement of the lid... and that one of my Pyrex lids would be forever tainted. So I went to the living room and found the heaviest book I have, a Spanish textbook from college. I stood in the doorway and threw it on top of him. Thank goodness it was big, because my aim is never good with these things.

Problem is, now I'm sleeping next to a giant fucking cockroach which is "sleeping" under my Spanish textbook. Er, should I say giant fucking la cucaracha? Anyway, I'm glad the textbook finally came in handy (I totally had to google the spelling of "la cucaracha") but I'm so fucking jumpy I'll never be able to sleep. Seriously. It is right next to me. I'm not even asleep and I'm already having nightmares of his mighty cockroach strength overcoming the weight of the textbook.

Life Imitates Art

It's about 4 a.m. and I'm lying in bed. I just was working on a piece about the giant cockroaches that have taken over my life and I look over and a giant fucking house centipede (remember those guys?) was crawling across the wall. I jumped up and sprayed it. I thought it fell down behind the bed and proceeded to sit on the bed (I was naked, mind you) to make sure I'd eliminated it. I didn't see any traces of it, save a leg or twelve stuck to the wall where I'd sprayed, so I figured I'd killed it. I stood up to get a tissue for the wall and realized it had been under my bare ass cheek the entire time, still squirming. Now, I admit I was getting a little too sentimental with the cockroach story--no one wants to hear about my formative years in subsidized housing--and needed to be stopped, but this is just too much to handle. Seriously, I'm now freaked out by the sight of my own hair on my pillow. I just cannot deal with this shit. We won't even talk about what happened to my friend Liz.. OK, we will: a giant cockroach crawled across her face in my bed a couple weeks ago. I live in squalor.