Woke up super early this morning, decided steel cut oats was just the thing, got the water boiling, reached in the cupboard to get the tin of oats and....
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!" A freakin' cockroach
appeared on my left ring finger. I dropped the oats and the cup
measure, did a serious freak out dance with some elaborate jazz hands,
quivered ALL over, and felt a deep, imperative longing rise inside me,
Took me a second to realize it was me
thinking it. I mean, really, I've done more capture/release routines
with cockroaches than I care to admit. And now I wanted to kill one,
viciously so, I admit, just for the offense of scaring the tar out of
me. Was I harmed? Nope. Was everything involved cleanable? Yup. Was
I in mommy bear mode protecting my children? Nah, the dudes were still
So, what the heck? I think I need therapy.
Oh, and the cockroach was never seen after I managed to fling it who knows where...may we never meet again.
And just so ya know, cockroaches hanging out in houses in my neck of the woods is not indicative of a dirty house...the icky little critters just like to live with us, especially when it's raining.