Pardon Me
The great flood of 2008 had left our house in saddening disrepair. I call it the great flood... though only my house was affected. It's really an experience to work yourself up to taking a nice bath when you are eight months pregnant only to step ankle deep in a pile of water in your hallway. I guess that our house is pretty old... and plumbing does not last forever. But... when your house floods like this you just know deep down that this is just the beginning of something much larger and more heinous to come.I'll fast forward through the details of the upcoming months. During the third trimester of my pregnancy my front yard resembled an excavation site from the plumbing work. Our house flooded two more times. After the thousands of dollars that went into salvaging the carpeting and drying out walls it was decided that a complete re-pipe of the house be done. Every wall where there was plumbing was cut open and gutted. Once the plumbing was all replaced, we were sure that our problems were over. The next thing to complete was closing up all of the holes.
Then I had my baby. I was horrified to think of bringing her home in the midst of all of this destruction, but really... what choice did I have? So we brought her home and kept her in our bedroom. The day that I was calling the drywallers to come in and patch up all of the holes our air conditioning died. It didn't putter about with its death either signaling its end with sputters or surges of warmth. It just dropped dead; subsequently the first day it reached over 90 degrees outside. So as the kids and I lay sweltering in the oven of my home, I made a decision to fix the air conditioner first.
Of course... it wasn't an easy fix. There were no blown fuses or a simple lack of coolant... no. The entire unit was fried. Bye bye to thousands of more dollars. And... a hold to the patching for now. After a week of stifling heat and more strangers lurking about my house with my newborn... breastfeeding might I add... the unit was replaced. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have a slight anal tendency toward a very clean home. I am not environmentally friendly when it comes to murdering germs and use bleach with open windows. Call me crazy, but I love the smell of an aired out home after being completely bleached down. It's so crisp and most importantly... clean. I went through a stint of using all natural cleaners during Rowan's first two years of life because I felt guilty of... well... everything... but without bleach or antibacterial stuff... I felt like it was never clean enough. So... I made the switch back.
I say the above to show the reason I was completely freaked out and disturbed when we noticed the new "tenants" that had taken up residence in our home. It started with one, but don't most of these accounts? I had ventured into the kitchen to take my nightly pill and when I flipped on the light he was standing there on the counter. This was, by far, the largest roach I had ever seen in my entire life. I sucked in a lung full of air and squeaked my husband's name. The roach lifted its head and turned it to look at me. He looked AT me. This was not your average house roach. This roach had a head that moved independent of its body. It was at this moment that I knew that we were going to have a problem.
I HATE roaches. I hate them more than spiders or any other creepy crawly insect you can dream up. Roaches aren't just gross or slimy looking, but they are a direct insult to my ability to maintain a clean home. I come from Texas, where the roaches only enter your house if you leave food out and don't clean it up for weeks on end. What was this beast doing on my newly bleached counter? What was he doing in my kitchen where every single piece of food item was sealed? How dare he? My husband reassured me that this was not a house roach. He said that in Florida there are palmetto bugs and wood roaches that live outdoors. So... I thought... this was an illegal alien in my home.
I did what any good American would do. I called border control. The drywallers showed up at my house the following day. They patched all of my hundreds of holes for a hefty $50 a hole. They capped us at $450... I could tell that he felt especially bad for us. The next day I breathed easier. This was, of course, until I went into my kitchen. I flipped on the light and they were everywhere. There were four playing poker on my countertop, one taking a bath in the sink, another trying to find entrance into the fridge and several more taking their children to the park I call my crock pot.
The most disturbing thing of all is that they did not scatter. They all turned their heads and looked at me. It was at this moment that I realized that they were intelligent. My husband hates to kill a living creature and has been known to carry spiders and a myriad of other bugs outdoors to set them free in their natural habitats. It was no different with roaches. He came into the kitchen and systematically trapped each roach under a disposable plastic cup and took care not to harm them. With surgeon-like precision he lifted and removed every single roach from our kitchen and took them outside and far from the house before setting them free.
Monkey was delighted beyond belief with his newfound friends. Each time the Professor would take one of the roach filled cups outside he'd stand at the door and yell "Bye bye roach, see you soon!" It was like he knew that they would be back. We figured that after a couple of weeks, we would have trapped most of them and taken them outside. With the walls patched up, they should have a hard time getting back into the house and we'd be done. I wasn't keen on the idea of hiring an exterminator because my daughter was only two months old and a very tiny two months at that. So we waited out the weeks and did the nightly roach extractions.
Each time I encountered a beady eyed bastard I grew increasingly angry. One day I left a pot of water in the sink... I was trying to loosen up some burned on dinner... long story... but at any rate, one of those menacing freaks came out to see what I was doing. I swept him into the pot. And let him drown. I am not going to lie... I felt pretty crappy after doing that. I mean... he had a right to live, just not in my house. I needed to make an example... I could swear I saw a piece of mirror under the stove with four tiny roach heads peering up at me.
I broke down the next day and called an exterminator. I was adamant about them using products that were not harmful to small children. We left the house and my husband took off of work while they did their roach killing magic. He said that we would probably see more roaches than normal as they stagger out to die. The first couple of days, I saw nothing. Which was a delight in itself. The third day... the roaches held a funeral. By the fourth day, the mourners of said funeral were laying on their backs in various places... all dying. We put them out of their miseries. After about a week or so... I was overjoyed at the site of no roaches. It was nice to go into the kitchen and flip on the light without expecting to see one. It was short lived, though.
There is a reason that roaches are one of the oldest creatures on the planet. They have an uncanny ability to survive. Even to this day, I will see one or two of the mammoth creatures strolling about. I've called the exterminator a couple more times, but its always the same thing. Clear for a few days after... and then out pops a new one. I don't know where they are coming from or what they want from me. Since its only one every now and again... we've regained our humanity and are escorting them out of the house.
