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IF I had a camera that could take good close ups, I would show you people a thing or two that… that, well… you wouldn’t know about other wise! Things that you are blissfully unaware of right now. Things that somewhere deep down inside, you will be uncomfortable and squirming just a bit and thinking, OH MY GAWD! WHY IS SHE SHOWING ME THIS? I WON’T BE ABLE TO SLEEP TONIGHT! this is bizarre. Krissa, clearly has too much time on her hands…. Again.
But I don’t have a camera that takes good close ups so I will have to use my extensive vocabulary to tell you all about it and paint the proverbial picture with words and crap. Er, crapola?
OK, today we have, for your viewing pleasure description, the smushed roach I found on the bathroom floor when I returned home from my trip to Mither’s and Pop’s house. John admitted to stepping on it in an attempt to keep it from finding it’s way upstairs where we would, ultimately have to run, up the stairs, to slap a daughter and then gag her to stifle her screaming save one or both of the girls when they stumble upon the roach while it is planning it’s attack on her/them. At this point I should indicate to you that roaches in deep south Texas are different than roaches in any other part of the country and state. They are huge and they fly. That’s right, people. They FLY. And they are not very good at it. Which means that even though they are trying like mad to get away from you they usually end up dive bombing you as they fly across the room. This causes much screaming and yelling from the girls that are, of course, standing outside in the hall watching with saucer-sized eyes. Me? I am charging around the room in hot pursuit of the little bastard and it’s gettin’ personal now! I have my shoe off and am slamming it against the wall or ceiling or floor or occasional piece of laundry that’s left in the floor, saying, “I hope these clothes LEFT ALL OVER THE FLOOR are at least dirty!
Oh, and if you’re saying, “I live in the south and I have roaches like that!” You don’t. This is Texas. They are bigger and carry Texas flags.
Naw. They don’t intimidate me much. Until they land on me. Eww.
Anyway, you can see why it is so important that we hunt down and murder any roach we happen to see. It does not happen often, but John and I instantly go to the aforementioned scenerio in our minds when we see one on the outside of the fireplace and it runs inside and we can’t get it. We look at each other and it’s like telepathy.
John: I have to go to work early tomorrow. You have to get up with them in the middle of the night if they start screaming “ROACH!”.
me: Fine, but exactly when do you plan to take your turn? What if it goes up there in the evening and you’ve just gotten home from work? You’re going to be really tired and beat then, and not feel like charging up the stairs to save them. Me? I just think they’re stupid and would be all for letting them battle it out for themselves, but your Mom will have all kinds of wild stories to go with all the screaming going on. She will find a way to use the phone and call the cops, ya know.
OK, background story completed now. So we have this smushed roach on the floor in my bathroom. It has obviously been there for at least a couple of days, I’m guessing cause it is covered with these bizarre tiny black bugs that are feasting on it’s… carcass. They’re not any kind of ant either. They are about half the size of a sugar ant, though. And they move remarkably fast considering they are so tiny I can’t even see their legs.
Weird. I smushed them all and picked up the roach with a piece of tissue and flushed them. Haven’t seen another one since. But I sure wish I had something to get a close up of them with so you could tell me what the hell they are I could see them better and instantly know the fancy Latin words to catagorize and label them. Cause, I totally would. You know me and my vocabulary. 😉