I like to talk to things.
In a good way.
My little roses.
My avocado green KitchenAid mixer.
I named my car in college.
Hey, I even named my little ivy plant.
But there is really no cute diminuative for these suckers.
No getting around the ugliness of COCKROACH.


(I didn’t take this picture myself),
but I have seen them on a regular basis since moving overseas.
Thankfully only twice in this house (and the first time was before we moved in).

As it turns out, I had an ingenious allergist in Oregon find out that I was extremely allergic to them. Now I can have a legitimate excuse! =) I’m curious if there is a relation to dust-mites… Okay, back to the bug-which-shall-remain-nameless… We have seen the 3 inch variety that will chew through 3 layers of ziploc bags to get my Peanut M&Ms and we have seen the tinier variety up close and personal. Very. Personal.

We were invited to a fancy lunch at a businessman’s home in our neighborhood last week. The business must be doing pretty well because they had some pretty fancy things. They played some nice Tanzanian praise music DVDs for us while we chatted and the kids played with their little daughter until the food came out. Anyway, I’m almost done with my feast of roasted beef, fried bananas, and something resembling coleslaw on a pretty porcelain plate when one of these jumps up for a nibble! Ack!

The thing I think I hate the most is how they dart around and you can’t quite smash them on the first couple tries. Thankfully I was about finished eating. I did eventually use a fish bone to fling IT to the floor and squish him with my shoe. Having to share my lunch with likes of IT was a first for me.
blech…

It was Anna’s first success on a squatty potty too, but that’s another story.

Everyone has their phobia. Mine is definitely spiders. Kent’s is definitely these. While in the forest I struck a deal with these bugs that just might help you out on a camping trip:
I stomp loudly, you get out of the way.
I don’t turn on lights, we both pretend you’re not there.
You don’t show your face, I don’t squash you.
I am allowed to repeatedly remind myself that you are more afraid than I am.
I have the right to strike with a shoe if you break any rule.

We can coexist at a tolerable level, which for whatever reason cannot happen when there are more than 6 legs involved…


2 Comments

Linda · July 12, 2010 at 4:15 pm

Hilarious! (Actually I endured living with cockroaches in South America — perhaps I've told you that they used to scamper across my face at night and wake me up — ewwwwww!) I'm going to forward this to Rachel who works in the Philippines right now and how also hates cockroaches!

Job 77 · July 13, 2010 at 12:59 am

Ugh! I hate cockroaches! It's not a fear, more of a disgust. I've only encountered them twice. Each time ended with me smashing the cockroach to bits.

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