An unwelcome visitor

Me: "So there were more bugs in my cabinet when I got back, but they were dead."

Connie: "Did you ever call Colby(the bug man) about those bugs like I told you?"

Me: "I did not. I was too busy getting things done before my trip and seriously those little weevils are nothing."

Connie: "But that is what you have a bug man for and Colby wants you to call him when you see bugs."

Me: " Really? I hardly think he wants me to call him every time I see a bug. I mean this is Florida. We have roaches."

Connie: "So if you see a roach in your house you won't call Colby?"

Me: " Not for one roach in my house, Mom seriously this is Florida! If we called the bug man every time we saw a roach he would be running up and down the road all day long."

Connie: "Well, now I want to know. How many roaches will it take before you call Colby? How many roaches in your house will it take before you call the bug man?"

Me: "Three. If I see three roaches in my house then I will call Colby."

(Ok, smart readers that remember their English literary terms and recognize foreshadowing. Settle in and keep reading for the horror that is sure to come).

A couple of weeks after that conversation my bug man, Colby, appeared for my three month spraying. I brought him into the kitchen and explained my issue with the weevils, and he explained there wasn't much I could do about those bugs as they come in through my pasta via the grocery store. He proceeded to empty my cabinet of pasta and rice despite my explaining I had thrown away all the original stuff and bought new. He examined the stuff and pronounced it bug free, sprayed the outside of my house, took his check, and left me to put back the contents of my cabinet.

One day later I spotted a small roach sitting on my cutting board by my sink and without much thought smashed it with the bottom of a glass. It didn't put up much of a fight and I figured that was due to the recent spraying. Madison, remembering the previously noted conversation, joked that Grandma would certainly call the bug man at this point, but that I still had two more roaches to go.  Ha. Ha.

About two days after that roach spotting I was doing my nightly locking down and picking up of the house.  Seeing that the water bottle drawer needed refilling, I unlocked the door leading into the garage and collected an armful of bottles.  Once the drawer was refilled I moved over to the counter that holds our electronic devices, mail, and collections of catalogs, restaurant menus, and telephone booklets.  I started going through the mail accumulating small piles for throwing away, keeping, and shifting to my desk.  At some point while working on this I felt a tiny feeling on my thigh as if my newly bought exercise/pj shorts had a loose, dangling thread.  I patiently rubbed the area and continued with the mail, but the nagging thread refused to stop bothering me.  I looked down at my purple pants, annoyed that I was already going to have to be yanking threads, but seeing nothing I went back to the mail.  Again, the feeling, but this time I registered the fact that the feeling was more pronounced and more like a creepy bug feeling.  I moved away from the counter, looked down at my pants, and sort of jumped while swatting at the legs of my shorts.  Immediately, a blackened shape fell to the floor and sat stunned on my kitchen floor behind the leg of my table.  It took less than a second for my brain wave signal to shriek "roach in my pants" and my mouth to start screaming for help.

It took much longer for someone to come to my rescue, but Madison did finally appear in the kitchen with a shoe and she stood and watched as I jumped up and down batting at my pants, shaking from head to toe, and jibbering uncontrollably.  She thought I was making up the whole incident and began her Maddy-ness of telling me to "calm down".

Me:  "CALM DOWN?  CALM DOWN?  GOD DAMMIT, MADISON, BUT THERE WAS A ROACH ON MY LEG UP MY PANTS!  A ROACH!  A ROACH!  IN MY PANTS!"

Madison:  "Are you sure?  Because personally I don't see a roach anywhere, and you need to seriously calm down.  Take some deep breaths."

And about that time the roach had recovered from his frightening experience of being swatted out of his nice comfortable position UP MY PANTS, and he scurried from his position behind the table leg toward the underside of the cabinet where I had just been standing.  Doing so put him in full view of both of us as we stood in the middle of the kitchen arguing.

Madison:  "Oh."

Me:  "AAAAAHHHHH!  KILL HIM!  KILL HIM!"

Madison:  "With what?"

Me:  "THE SHOE!  THE SHOE!"

But it was too late and the roach was happily undercover and so I had to go back out into the garage for the roach spray, which I haven't used in over two years because our bug situation has been nil or they are dead.  I sprayed the little sucker who still seemed unaware of his surroundings and didn't move.  I sprayed him until the floor beneath him was saturated with liquid and then he crept inside the cabinet out of our sight.

It took me two hours to calm down from the episode.  I lay in bed with Madison who rubbed my back and talked calmly about things that would take my mind off of the situation.  We both agreed that he had probably been inside the new water bottle carton that I had purchased that day at Sam's Club and that I brought him in in my arms with the load I carried inside.  Still, it was my first experience of a roach ON MY BODY and I apologize to all those people before me if I didn't give the proper response when I heard their stories.  OH MY GOD! 

I wasn't sure that I would be able to sleep that night, but I knew that I couldn't keep Madison up all night so I got up to go check out my covers and my walls in my own room.  As I kissed her good-night and started to exit, she joyfully responded with a lasting wisecrack.

Madison:  "Now are you going to call the bug man over this roach or are you still going to wait for the third one?"  (giggle, giggle, giggle)  "Because Grandma will want to know."