When I moved to FL as a kid, I was horrified to learn of flying cockroaches. (I learned about them as one flew overhead. *shudder*) Living in Bug Capital for 18 years, I thought I had seen it all in terms of creepy crawlies. I was sadly mistaken.
Me vs. the Creature from the Hall Floorboard
First, I kick away the cat toys, careful not to get my foot too close to the monster, should he prove to be a jumping specimen.
Next, I go in search of an old shoe because I am not exposing my slippers, boots, heels, or flip flops to bug guts. Finally, I find a pair of sneakers that I use to paint and strip wallpaper. No one would be able to tell the difference between wallpaper paste and bug innards on those puppies.
Sneaker in hand, I peer around the corner, ready to attack. I bring the shoe down three times – whack, whack, WHACK! With the last whack of my shoe, the bug bounces, a sign of death and a sign that I’ve jumped back at least a foot, my heart beating as though I’m going to have to decide between fight and flight at any moment. I wait for signs of life. Not seeing any, I put my shoe away and run past the monster to the kitchen where I quench the thirst that bug hunting has caused.
Coming out of the kitchen, I see the bug’s body still lying there. He’s either really dead or one heck of an actor. I go about my business for the rest of the night and remind Hubby that he’s got a carcass to dispose of before bed. (I’m sorry, you didn’t think I was going to do said task, did you? Have you not been reading? They don’t make paper towels thick enough to create a safe barrier between me and the alien-bug.)
An hour later…
“Hey, Cher, where did you say that bug was?”
“Against the floorboard in the hall across from the bathroom.”
“Yeah, not anymore.”