Monday, July 30, 2007

Nightmare

I'm afraid to go to sleep. Not because of anything I saw on TV (like {President Bush's stupid bowling comment during the press conference with Gordon Brown today), and not because I'm worried about the kids (I'm always worried about the kids), but because of what happened to me the other night, when I was trying to sleep.

The lights were off. My husband is snoring soundly, and I'm just settling down for the night...when I hear it. The faint rattle of the mini-blinds in the window flanking Matt's side of the bed. Something is moving the blinds- and from the sound of it, it's not a petite something-that-lurks-in-the-night. I lay there for a few minutes, working up the courage to turn on the light- when the rattling starts growing more and more intense.

When I switch on the light- I see it. A beloved Texas tree roach has crawled through a minuscule crack in the window and is now making his way into the house through the blinds. I'm not sure who is more surprised- but judging from the swiftness of Mr. Roach- he realizes he better make a clean get-away, and hops down on Matt's nightstand and scurries for the door. Luckily, I have cans of RAID stashed all over the place- like a bug-alcoholic that hides cans of insecticide in the laundry basket for afternoon pick-me-ups of roach killings.

The rattling of the blinds didn't wake up my husband. Nor did the presence of one of the grossest creatures in creation mere inches away from his snoring mouth. But my hellish screams of disgust sure did as I sprayed RAID all over the master bedroom. (It takes a few minutes of a continuous stream of RAID to even register to these turkey-sized roaches that you mean business). He graciously lumbered out bed and swept up the twitching roach and flushed him down the toilet. Within minutes, he was asleep- in exactly the same position he was before the fucker tried to get in through the window. Not me. I'm envisioning all of Mr. Roach's friends- now wondering where he has gone, and how long it will be before they come to find out. It's a good thing I have 42 hours of Oprah on the dvr.

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