The Egyptian-held Israelites prayed that God would give them
a life free from bricks. Most racers pray that God will give them a month–nay,
even a week–free from rice. I pray for a life void of cockroaches. Perchance
you already share this pain with me. If you are so moved after this blog to
take pity on me and would like to go beyond simply praying for me to be free of
roaches, feel free to mail me a bottle of Raid.
Now let’s toil with this for awhile by first setting the scene
of where I currently sit as I write, then let’s journey through the reasons my
generation has been scarred by cockroaches, only then shall I recount the very trying events of the past few hours on this early
morning.
Obviously it’s safe to say I am petrified of cockroaches.
Three months into the race and I still am not okay with them. Right now it’s
12:30 AM; it’s just me and the family ‘roaches wandering about the house. If I
had known that a colony lived amongst us here I probably never would have
ventured out of the bedroom. Now I know. However, for the time being I sit in a
lone dining room chair strategically placed next to the only outlet in the
room. My computer is precariously perched on my lap, and my feet are tucked
underneath me to make sure no unsuspecting friend crawls over my toes. If that
were to happen, the entire family (and potentially the entire neighborhood)
would be very rudely awakened. From
time to time (which is roughly every thirty seconds from my paranoia) I flash my
headlamp around the base of the chair in ever-increasing wild circles to make
sure none of the pesky beasts have found their way towards me. Inevitably a few
are lurking in hopes that my feet slip to the floor. (Not happening).
Now. Hollywood. For all the many wonderful things you did to
make childhood great, two very different isolated events have ruined me from
cockroaches forever. As you read this, remember I still refuse to watch either
of these movies simply because of the cockroaches. Do not try to ever persuade
me that either of these are worth watching again. It’s not happening.
1. Honey, I Shrunk the
Kids. As the title implies, the poor people are measly sized.
I never liked this movie anyway, but then comes the part towards the end of the
movie. Ant verses cockroach battle because the roach is attacking the kids!
Really? REALLY? It has fangs and all sorts of other unnecessary scare tactics.
Can’t even recall the details, except to say that this movie took a two inch
bug and made it bigger than me, then had it attack. Not cool.
2. Men In Black. I
fear this one may more controversial in terms of movie quality. I repeat. I
don’t care. You can’t pay me to watch it. I have not seen this movie since my
family went to see it in a very full theater in Japan when I was in third
grade. I don’t even recall the plot line, but definitely have very vivid memories of giant roach alien
and millions of “baby� roaches unleashed upon mankind. I can’t imagine reading
a script where it says “one of you gets swallowed by the super huge cockroach.
The other one of you spends a lot of time stepping on them.� Again, not okay.
Why the cockroach?
So as I teetered in this chair writing a different blog,
many a cockroach came to my side. I finally decided to brave the walk back to
the bedroom. Here’s where things get OUT OF CONTROL. As I stood up (after
carefully checking for any signs of creepy crawlers), one of those suckers
scurried out from under my chair giving me such a fright that I dropped my
computer on the ground (probably waking up the family after I had so
successfully avoided that for an hour). I rush to my room and barely outrun a
roach, practically slam the door shut and let out a huge sigh of relief. I set
down my computer, let my guard down, and make one fatal flaw #1: I decide to go
to the bathroom. In my flawed reasoning, I wrongly thought (or lustfully
wished) I could have a one-minute venture where I may not have an encounter
with said friends. How wrong was I ever!
In the fifteen seconds it has taken me to make this
decision, a dear cockroach has decided to wait one step outside the door. So as
I open the door, attempt to take my first step, then notice his existence, and
stumble into fatal mistake #2. I jumped a few feet in the air, make a very
startled sound, and neglect to shut the door tight. I only left it open a few
inches but that’s all he needed in my absence.
So I dance my way to the bathroom praying that roachy won’t
follow me under that door, which he
didn’t. But of course, as I hastily make my way down the six tiles to our room,
I begin looking for that little bugger. I make it to the threshold. Flash the
headlamp across the floor. Open the door wider. Double check. Phew. Safe.
Decide to shut the door and sleep in a breezeless, windowless sauna. Fatal
Mistake #3. You guessed it. Little friend is waiting. LURKING in the very back
of the corner. Had to shut the door tight just to see that he was even there.
Then have to open the door, use the same head lamp (making all sorts of wild
head flailings–yes my neck hurts today) to move this bug out from under the
door, But instead of running out of the room, he jets to Pei-Yee’s shoes. Of
course. OF COURSE! He took my only weapon within arms reach.*1*
After many, many dance moves later *2*, he scurries
to the threshold, no longer intimidated by my light. I’m losing patience and
sleep over a bug. I shut the door on him anyway. Finally one stroke of luck in
my favor. He scurries out into the living room, not back into our room.
Now amidst all my illness from this weekend, Pei-Yee nicely
switched me beds so that I could have the bottom bunk, as I was far too
out-of-my-mind to attempt to climb a ladder. Perhaps now that I’m well, I
should consider kindly offering her back the bottom bunk, which she obviously
enjoys more than me… This would get me a few feet higher off the ground…Hole
in this logic? These cockroaches have wings.
So here it now is rounding two thirty AM after all of this
has unfolded. And I find myself having a crisis of faith. This time it’s not
theological debates over predestination that cause me to question His goodness.
No. It’s cockroaches. Part of me wishes I had more shame and would never write
something like this, but in fact I sincerely am questioning God’s reasoning.
*1* but let’s be honest here: as though I had the guts
to actually hear the crunch of his guts. No.
*2* These dance moves will soon be named after me.
Can you patent a dance move? Look for this one on future episodes of Dancing
With the Stars or whatever crazy dancing reality shows there stateside.
