Ahhhh! Okay, sorry, that was just to let out the anxiety I've been harnessing all night. Have I told you I have a thing for bugs? And, not a good thing. Like, a BAD thing. So, I was not a happy trouper last night when this flying cockroach THING flew past me in my bedroom. And it was past midnight already.
My dad thought it would be easy to kill it, just use this electric tennis racket thing we have. He tried to kill it, and at the same time tried to avoid getting stung (if it could sting), so it looked more like Daddy was running from it than towards it. He ran in circles around my room, but then it flew up by the ceiling fan, and there if we wacked it, the ceiling fan would fly off. So, Daddy stood on a chair and tried to reach it, but it crawled up in that cone thing that attaches the hanging pole to the ceiling. We went out and got the ladder and a flashlight, and told me to fetch him some chopsticks. Chopsticks? Absolutely no idea how that would've worked. So, instead, we got straws, and Daddy tried to fish it out of there. In his haste, he started swinging the hanging pole around making my ceiling fan do crazy circles that scared me. It still wouldn't come out. I told him to use the straw as a parascope, and try to use it to look in and up, but he ignored me. I think he was already getting tired of this whole gimmick as he had planned to go to sleep an hour ago. Then, I had the brilliant idea of using a bunch of extension cords and a blow dryer, trying to blow the bug out of there. So, he was just like, "Try it." And we did, except all it succeeded in doing was blowing bunches of dust all over my room, making my good night's sleep even worse than it already was going to be. Finally, Daddy just about gave up, saying whatever. But, I'm like, There. Is. A. Flying. Cockroach. In. My. Room. That's when I started getting paranoid. I decided that it was incredibly vital that we cover up the hole in which it had crawled. With, like, Duct Tape. Because interior decorating doesn't mean jack to me when bugs are involved. But I couldn't find it. So, we about turned into a not-so-happy Swiss family, because I was yelling at my mom to find the Duct Tape, and she was yelling at me that she hadn't touched it. And my dad is just standing there dreaming of his bed. Eventually, we used actual duct tape, not Duct Tape. Because Duct Tape is actually the worst for actual ducts. The tape we used was built for ducts. So, now, my ceiling fan looks like this:
And, best case scenario: The THING got squashed in Daddy's process, and is forever dead.
Worst case scenario: It's still alive, waiting for the day when the tape will loosen, when it can finally crawl out at night, when I'm asleep, and sting me, savoring its revenge on the one who attempted to kill it.
Anyway, I did NOT sleep well. My mouth might as well have been sealed with tape, and my ears were thoroughly covered by my hair. I alternated from clutching my blanket and unwaveringly staring at the fan, and huddled under my blanket shell, every inch of me covered, and my blanket tucked in around all the edges. How I didn't suffocate, no idea. So, not looking forward to tonight.
My dad thought it would be easy to kill it, just use this electric tennis racket thing we have. He tried to kill it, and at the same time tried to avoid getting stung (if it could sting), so it looked more like Daddy was running from it than towards it. He ran in circles around my room, but then it flew up by the ceiling fan, and there if we wacked it, the ceiling fan would fly off. So, Daddy stood on a chair and tried to reach it, but it crawled up in that cone thing that attaches the hanging pole to the ceiling. We went out and got the ladder and a flashlight, and told me to fetch him some chopsticks. Chopsticks? Absolutely no idea how that would've worked. So, instead, we got straws, and Daddy tried to fish it out of there. In his haste, he started swinging the hanging pole around making my ceiling fan do crazy circles that scared me. It still wouldn't come out. I told him to use the straw as a parascope, and try to use it to look in and up, but he ignored me. I think he was already getting tired of this whole gimmick as he had planned to go to sleep an hour ago. Then, I had the brilliant idea of using a bunch of extension cords and a blow dryer, trying to blow the bug out of there. So, he was just like, "Try it." And we did, except all it succeeded in doing was blowing bunches of dust all over my room, making my good night's sleep even worse than it already was going to be. Finally, Daddy just about gave up, saying whatever. But, I'm like, There. Is. A. Flying. Cockroach. In. My. Room. That's when I started getting paranoid. I decided that it was incredibly vital that we cover up the hole in which it had crawled. With, like, Duct Tape. Because interior decorating doesn't mean jack to me when bugs are involved. But I couldn't find it. So, we about turned into a not-so-happy Swiss family, because I was yelling at my mom to find the Duct Tape, and she was yelling at me that she hadn't touched it. And my dad is just standing there dreaming of his bed. Eventually, we used actual duct tape, not Duct Tape. Because Duct Tape is actually the worst for actual ducts. The tape we used was built for ducts. So, now, my ceiling fan looks like this:
And, best case scenario: The THING got squashed in Daddy's process, and is forever dead.
Worst case scenario: It's still alive, waiting for the day when the tape will loosen, when it can finally crawl out at night, when I'm asleep, and sting me, savoring its revenge on the one who attempted to kill it.
Anyway, I did NOT sleep well. My mouth might as well have been sealed with tape, and my ears were thoroughly covered by my hair. I alternated from clutching my blanket and unwaveringly staring at the fan, and huddled under my blanket shell, every inch of me covered, and my blanket tucked in around all the edges. How I didn't suffocate, no idea. So, not looking forward to tonight.
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