Attack of the Killer Cockroach

I think I'm getting the flu--yay! Nothing says "Happy New Year!" like violent chills and raging fever, am I right? No, I don't have anything quite that serious, but for the last 24 hours or so I have been suffering from swollen glands and a sore throat which I may or may not have contracted from Sawyer. Don't worry--we'll live.

Today, however, I was feeling just funky enough that I didn't want to drag myself or the kids anywhere, but I wasn't feeling so awful that I couldn't get a few things done around the house. It looks like a war zone, you know. So I sort of organized a home office upstairs at the far end of the family room, did a few loads of laundry and got them folded and put away, sorted out Tyler's and Darcy's new school uniforms and got them hung in their respective closets . . . and somewhere in there I even made time to take a shower! Leave me alone--I'm on vacation.

Anyhoo, round about 4:30 I decided to surprise Randy and actually have dinner ready when he got home from work--what a novel idea!!!--so I got some pork chops, rice and corn going (just call me Starchy McStarcherson) and then, because Randy got Sawyer's bookcase mounted the other day, I decided to open one of the book boxes in the garage and get it unloaded and broken down. Progress, people!

And, in a testimony to just how easily distracted I am, here is what followed: I carried the box of books upstairs to the family room; I unloaded, sorted and categorized the contents of the box according to room; and I carried the books that belonged in Sawyer's bookcase to his room. So far so good. I got the books put away and even hung up a stray pair of shorts and a shirt that were laying on the end of the bed. I'm working hard! And then . . . I saw it. On the floor, at the foot of Sawyer's bed, was a laptop. An OLD laptop. A laptop that neither Randy nor I have used in probably eight or so years. This laptop is so old, its disk drive accommodates a floppy disk. The tiny little mouse button that is situated right in the middle of the keyboard is so worn out, you almost feel like you're playing an arcade game and the pointer is like a gun that is being fired by someone with an itchy trigger finger.

But let me tell you what's so great about that old laptop: It has a simple little game on it called Solitile that is completely addicting. I LOVE that game. And I hadn't played it in eight years (give or take). I was inexorably drawn to the laptop, where I hunched down in the floor and propped myself up on my elbows to play a quick game of Solitile while I waited for the oven timer to sound.

Oh, I should mention that I also carried about 12 bags of garbage to the curb and it was a little nippy so I had thrown on my nylon windbreaker and was still wearing it when the following events occurred. So there I was, huddled on the floor enjoying myself, when I had the sudden sensation that my "updo" was falling down--you know, like hair escaping from a barrette or something. Only, oh yeah, my hair is short so there's nothing to escape, you know? My brain was sort of working in slow motion (and if I were honest, that would be true most of the time) and I thought, "That's weird--it feels like my hair is falling down my back." I brushed my fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck and verified that no, I had not suddenly sprouted a ponytail, and I went back to my game.

A minute later the sensation returned, and it occurred to me that what I was probably feeling was the hood on my nylon jacket; the way I was hunched over on the floor, the hood could easily have crept up and was now causing that itchy feeling on my scalp. Yeah, that's it.

A moment later, I vaulted to my feet as I finally discovered the source of the odd sensation: what looked to be THE WORLD'S LARGEST COCKROACH fell off my head and landed on the floor with a thud. Okay, you know that feeling when something just gives you the willies? That was NOTHING compared to this. I stood there jumping around in Sawyer's room, shaking off the feeling of a million cockroaches swarming all over me, and yelling for good measure. Naturally, this brought the kids running; Darcy likened the noise I was making to the sound of someone being tortured, though I'm not sure how she would know about that.

Once I'd gotten over the initial shock, I peeked around the corner of Sawyer's door, alert for another rogue attack. And this should tell you a little something about the size of this roach: Even though I was not wearing my glasses, something caught my attention on the floor below--I mean like downstairs below--and I realized that my little six-legged tormentor had fallen off the landing in his haste to get away from the crazy lady. I ordered Tyler to go down and kill the pest, but not until everyone had gotten a good look at the invader. I've never really thought of myself as having a mean streak, but why oh why didn't I let Sawyer have his way with that horrid creature??? He wouldn't have had six legs for long!