The one thing I miss

about the North (or one of a few things), is that NOT ONCE did I ever run into a cockroach. I'm sure they exist up there, but they mind their own business, and I never had to deal with bugs too big to unknowingly step on with shoes.

COCKROACHES ARE SO BIG THAT WHEN YOUR BOYFRIEND STEPS ON THEM, ALL THEIR GUTS COME OUT.

But that was outside a Sonic. So that's ok.

UNTIL I GO HOME AND MAKE ARTS AND HEAR A NOISE AND TURN TO SEE A COCKROACH IN MY ROOM. ON THE WINDOW. AND THEN FLY -- THEY FLY HERE! -- TO THE FLOOR. And Nicholas wouldn't come get it. He laughed.

After twisting his arm, I made him promise to save me from anymore blood-sucking jurassic demons. And what do you know--last night, after finishing up a few episodes of Grey's Anatomy, I went into my room to put my laptop away--my room that is too scary to sleep in--my room that I tiptoe into to get more art supplies after scanning the entire place for cockroaches--and while scanning, one of the many dark spots I see because I'm paranoid, MOVES. IT WAS ON MY BED FRAME.

NEVER. SLEEPING. THERE. EVER.

So it yell for Nicholas to get off the couch and come rescue me. He runs to get paper towel (and by run, I mean, strolls leisurely while snickering) while I keep an eye on it. And when I returns, I run and hide behind the couch until it is safe (all the while checking for more insects dinosaurs). I hear the toilet flush and emerge from my hiding space and try to stop hyper ventilating.

BUT WAIT.

At this point, I remember all that coffee I had to drink. But knowing that Nicholas just flushed a cockroach down the toilet made me debate holding it in. (Let's face it: cockroaches will survive the apocalypse. Who's to say they can't crawl back up a toilet to continue terrorizing us?) So after many pep talks, I go in, and begin looking around to make sure the shadows on the shower line are just that, and that nothing is waiting inside the toilet.

OH, LOOK, THERE'S A COCKROACH IN THE BATHTUB.

Which I was pretty sure was dead. I didn't get a good look before crying running out and screaming for Nicholas, but I told him I thought it was on his back. Nicholas proceeded to wash him down the drain. (Seriously though, he should have killed it first to prevent further breeding.)

At this point, I was way to paranoid to use the bathroom since there had been 2 demon sightings that night, until Nicholas told me that he didn't actually catch the first one in my room, so it must have scurried across the hall and into the tub. If you ask me, that's quite an escape route, and I wasn't buying it. But Nicholas assured me that they move pretty fast, so it must have been the same one.

So then I needed to get something out of my room. Luckily, Nicholas has his moments where he can be a gentleman. So he stood with me and held my hand while I went to reach for more embroidery floss (or maybe it was glitter; who cares). He was snickering and I told him to be quiet. I stood still and listened. And the SAME NOISE I HEARD THE OTHER DAY WHEN I FIRST SPOTTED IT was coming from the corner of my bed frame. Nicholas quickly ushered me out of the room, and I went to cry hide/hyperventilate. I see him carry a fabric bin, used for under the bed storage into the bathroom. And then I hear him empty everything out of it, eventually followed by the shower turning on.

(At least he has a method now?)

THE MORAL OF THE STORY: I can't shower now. Here's to deodorant and Bath & Body Works goodness. I'll be freaking out all week.

Fun Fact: Mia was taught in her kindergarten class (at Catholic school) that bugs are still God's creatures. So when she saves an ant and takes it outside, she'll yell to everyone that she's rescuing a creature of God. But I think even Mia would agree that God did not make cockroaches. Evil. Pure evil.

Ps. Finishing up some marvelous things for the shop today! (If the cockroaches don't kill me first...)