I'm Back

Okay. That didn't last very long. Well, actually it was about a week and a half. So, how do I do this without being mean to the locals anymore? Hmmm. That's a hard one. See, being able to write here just helps me blow off steam. And between the heat and the bugs and the stink and the food and the silly laws and the...well, you can see how the steam builds!

Take for instance...

I have mentioned the bugs. I think. Let me go check. Well, shoot. I've only mentioned them briefly. Don't worry--I'll fill you in after I finish this little rant. ANYWAY, there are a lot of bugs. And spiders. And even some weird little creatures that look, quite frankly, as if other little creatures got together during a full moon and unnaturally produced freakish, mutated offspring. Look for posts on the mole cricket and the cockroach. SO...

there are all these bugs, and even THEY think it's hot and want to get inside the house. (You know it's hot when things that have been around since the dawn of time when dinosaurs roamed the earth and whose nasty little shells could withstand a nuclear blast think it's hot!) I'm not a sissy. I'm not afraid of bugs. But not being afraid of them and wanting them in my house are two totally different things.

Last week, I'm up late so I figure I'll do a little housework. I'm folding clothes and open my husband's closet to put some things away. (The only good thing about him being gone is that I've doubled my closet space.) I put my clean, fresh clothes away and think I see movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head...and there is a cockroach. Now, before anyone says anything or passes judgment on me, please go find my post on cockroaches. But back to my story, it's 1:00 in the morning, I'm in my pj's doing laundry, and I come across a cockroach. No problem. I run to the kitchen and get my can of Bengal spray which I have been assured will kill anything. I run back to my bedroom and unload about half a can on the bug and think to myself, "Ha! Take that!"

Right. I go back to the kitchen and grab my spray bottle of bleach to clean up the mess I just made, and when I get back to the bedroom,

that nasty, dirty, filthy, disgusting creature is crawling its way out of the four-inch deep puddle of foam that I just emptied on it. I don't panic. I figure that ANY SECOND now, the poison will kick in and it will die. That would be a no. It's crawling straight towards me. I start spraying concentrated bleach on it. It acts like it just got a shot of caffeine and starts running in earnest.

I don't think you truly appreciate the picture here. I've got a can of Bengal spray in one hand and a bottle of bleach in the other, and I'm bent over in half as I run through the house chasing a cockroach and spraying it for all I'm worth. In my pajamas. And a mud mask. At 1:00 on the morning.

First thing the next morning, I place a call to the approved exterminator for on post housing. I am told that they will be happy to come out and spray...in 6 days. That should have been yesterday. I got a call this afternoon informing me that they would like to reschedule for next Monday.

AND YOU WONDER WHY I CAME BACK TO WRITE!!!

(don't worry--I called a different exterminator from the next town over last Tuesday and had him out that same day. These people are flippin' stupid if they think I'm living with bugs for two weeks!)