Last night my phone rang at about 9:30. It was my friend Beth, who told me she was about to cry and she was calling me because I was the first person she thought of that could relate to her distress. I have asked her to guest-blog her experiences for the rest of you. Here is an account of what she told me last night.
I am not an unclean person. I regularly clean my sink. And I have roaches invading my apartment. Every time it rains, they find their way in. I should probably just install a tiny swinging door for them.
Last night, I had the worst roach attack ever. I was entering my bathroom when I was abruptly stopped by the scene which was before me. My precious purple Oral-B toothbrush was being grotesquely fondled by a three-inch roach (not including length of the swirling antennae). At that point, I kind of blanked out. For the next hour or so, I was in a fog (and not just because of Raid). When I got back my strength, I picked up my Dr. Scholl's wooden sandal and smacked that baby down yelling, "You deserve to die!"
Somehow I made it to CVS and purchased a new toothbrush and a protective tube to cover it up. It didn't say "roach protector" on the label of the tube, but I think it will do the job. And right now, while I'm at work, my apartment is getting fogged by Raid. I might have to sleep with a gas mask on, but it's worth it.