07 July 2012


Well Paul lied. Two days after the first cockroach sighting, and one day after we paid the exterminator $85 to fumigate the place, I had my first encounter with the horrid insect. Paul was getting ready to go to bed while I was just hours away from flying out for a quick holiday.

I interrupted Paul’s first few moments in bed to search the master bath for some Dramamine, a.k.a. my preferred airplane sleeping method. I turned on the light, burst open the door and immediately began flipping through the medicinal containers, searching desperately for the one thing that could guarantee me some sleep on my overnight flight.

After a minute or so, I gave up, turned around and headed out the door. Something caught my eye on my way out, so I glanced to the right and there, on the sink, just as Paul had described two days prior, was a rather large cockroach.

I jumped, hopped and skipped out of the bathroom, singing something like, “Oh, oh, oh oh,” and even laughed a little as I made my way as far away from the bathroom as possible. I met Paul in the kitchen where the bug spray lives and then commanded him to take charge.

It was at that moment that Paul advised that the mysterious cockroach had once again disappeared. This time, he saw the thing slip into the overflow hole and admitted that this was likely a repeat scenario since he did not in fact kill the last one. Liar.

“Thank you for lying to me,” I yelled. “You’re welcome,” he responded. "I didn't think you would be O.K. with the truth." He knows me too well.

Surprisingly, the skipping and singing was the extent of my freak out session. I saw death, I faced it (and then proceeded to disappear). I knew where it hid and then I went into problem-solving mode. Since Paul and I knew where the bugger was hiding, we did what we could to make sure we never had another cockroach encounter.

First, we sprayed the Raid down the hole. Then, Paul began filling a large cup with water so that he could drown the thing. Then we contemplated ways to close the hole to ensure no cockroaches would ever make another appearance as long as we both shall live.

Apparently all we had was scotch tape, so Paul carefully pulled about 10 narrow pieces of tape from the dispenser and sealed the hole. “Make sure to get the one in the spare bathroom as well,” I said.

Once the situation was resolved and Paul stated he was fine to sleep in the master bedroom all by himself, I got as far away from the cockroach as I could – I went to Australia!

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