Nothing Went Right Everything’s Wrong
Sometimes so many bad things happen in such quick succession that it stops being devastating and becomes purely comical. That’s kind of how the last twenty-four hours have been. I have stopped taking everything seriously, because if I didn’t shake everything off with laughter– by this point I’d be curled up in the fetal position in the womb like cave I’ve created out of my bedroom.
I believe that the pinnacle of this hilarious romp of misfortune came last night around 11:30pm. I had just finished a really emotionally draining blog on Love and such–and I just wanted to veg out for a bit and listen to good music online. So, I go into the kitchen with the goal to grab that new box of Cheez-Its from the cabinent. I had opened it to try a few of them a couple hours prior–you see these aren’t regular Cheez-Its–these are the PARTY MIX!!(!!!!) So, at any rate, I had done a piss-poor job closing the box up earlier, and of course that came back to bite me in the ass.
I dove my hand into that corrugated cardboard box last night, grabbed a handful of cheesy salty morsels, with a side of crunchy crawly protein. Yes, that’s right, a roach had nestled its way into mah foooodz and then proceeded to crawl on my arm until I spaztically knocked it to the tile floor below.
Oh dear, guys. I have not had a chance to communicate my deeply seeded fear of roaches. It’s pretty bad. Any time I’m confronted by them I completely switch into this different mode–I lose it. My typical responses: panic, screaming or flailing my arms in the air and freezing. Last night I used the flailing my arm and freezing option. I didn’t flee. I fought. I shook that bastard off of me and then sat there and stared that fucker down for a good minute. A general rule of thumb is that if a roach is inside the house–he’s on his last leg (of six) and that he will die soon. We do have pest control here thankyouverymuch. So, he wasn’t overly mobile or anything of that nature. I just stared at him, pondering my next move, twitching violently from the contamination my arm had just experienced. Cheez-Its along with their other social peers were scattered across the floor where they continued to lay throughout the night. I was too traumatized to pick them up–I’m sure there was a giant roach convention inside my house last night. I wouldn’t know. I retreated.
The roach won.
I really wanted to stay downstairs and watch my DVR-d episode of “Flipping Out,” but I was level-headed enough to realize that THE ROACH COULD GETS ME IN THE LIVING ROOM TOO. So, I went upstairs to give myself a Silkwood style scrubbing of epic proportions. My arm probably has no more skin cells left, but whatevs–the roachy-ness is gone. So halle-fucking-lujah.
Good news. My dad found the dead roach this morning IN THE LIVING ROOM. Bittersweet. We did have a period of bonding, but he also ruined a good full box of Cheez-Its.
Anyways, this is just one of many incidents I’ve had in the past twenty four hours that have resonated deep within my bones. Some others? Oh nothing serious–just losing a good friend, being used and abused, losing a best friend, and then losing my girlfriend. All in all. It was an awesome day!