Cockroach Party

Apparently, it’s in my office. And I have definitely been invited.

I have a bad habit of eating at my desk. Sometimes that’s when I blog, sometimes that’s when I read blogs, sometimes I’m just pissing around listening to music and emailing friends. This fateful day, I was eating a salad and reading my email. I ate the last bite of lettuce, put the bowl with its traces of sticky and delicious mango vinaigrette down to my left. I turned back to my computer and started typing a reply, shutting out my surroundings pretty well.

Until I noticed a slightly skittery movement off to my left. I turned, and motherfucker, there was a cockroach licking up the dressing and nibbling on the tofu crumbs. I grabbed a notebook and tried to trap it in the bowl, but hit the handle of the fork, which then went flipping across my desk, vinaigrette skidmarks everywhere. And off went the cockroach.

“Yagh!” I screamed, and tried to smash my notebook down on top of it. Missed.

“Yeuuuuch!” Smash.

“Yarlghl!” Smash.

It went behind my computer. I sat down. Heavy breathing.

Well, I thought, I’ll just have to ignore it. But I couldn’t. I kept thinking of it crawling up the back of my monitor, perching on top and twitching its antennae at me.

I stood up, notebook in hand. Peered over the monitor. It was sitting quietly in the perfect spot. With one last battle cry, I brought the notebook down and took the fucker’s head clean off. I scooped it into the bowl and marched into my boss’ office, cupping the bowl in my hands and holding it out in front of me.

“This,” I announced “is a cockroach in my salad bowl.”

Monday morning, two days ago, a little one scootled across the desk to my right, and without thinking, I smashed it with my fist. A bit later, I lifted up my plant and another two big ones panicked and ran around in all directions for a while before I managed to kill one of them by stomping it on the floor. Lord knows where the other one is.

There has been significant resistance around here to spraying. I have to concur that the chemicals used are bad bad bad, and that there’s no ventilation in our office to get rid of the poison. But after killing one with my bare hand, I came down pretty heavily in favour of spraying. Fuck cancer.

But the rest of the staff decided that roach traps were a good first step. Sure, okay, fair enough. I figured I could live with that. But did you know that Roach Motels are maple scented? I did not know that. I also did not know I am allergic to that scent. But here I sit: me, my roaches, my roach traps, my itchy eyes, scratchy throat, hivey skin and sneezes.

We certainly wouldn’t want to spray poison around.