Saturday, October 9, 2010

They sing, "I Will Survive"

This has been quite a few interesting weeks for me.

I'm finally into the house at long last, which is a great relief. Seriously, I feel like I'm taking a breath of fresh air. The stifling weight of Hillbillyville was absolutely murdering me one cell at a time.
Sort of like smoking a fatty except I didn't get high, it was harshing my mellow. Every day I woke up a little more angry, some days I had bouts of absolute depression and complete rage at the same time.

Initially when the man moved out to start the project I stayed behind in our other house and commuted a few times a month to visit, get some good lovin' and prepare meals. It worked out for a while but after a bit we both started to feel lonely, it was putting pressure on our friendship and I didn't like maintaining a house by myself.

It was easier to close up and move in with him and enjoy sharing the same bed even if he does snore like a chainsaw that has lodged into a 200 year old Sequoia.

Even though I highly doubt the tubs are ever going to have the lids removed or the goodies scattered about (making it homey) we will settle in for the long haul and I feel at 'home' at long last.

The other house is vacant still, gathering cobwebs and those pesky wood-roaches local to the area. They like sneaking into houses using every tiny crack to escape the looming winter and find a cozy place inside.

You would not believe the size of those sons of bitches! Quite literally if a nuclear event were to happen and we did persevere this would have to be our main source of food. Don't worry, a handful of these black revolting creepers would satisfy any hunger pangs.

One of the man's previous projects had us living in central Mississippi. Wow, what a culture shock that was after being from the Midwest all of my life. I remember when he telephoned to tell me about some of the rental properties he was looking at prior to my arrival.

One particular home he visited in the early dusk hours, he said that he saw one exterior wall that looked to be an entirely different color of brick & mortar. Once he closed in, turned on a flash light the wall started to scramble about and hundreds of these gruesome crawlies ran for the roof, the other side of the house and zipped down to the ground to disappear in the grass.

He said, NO way on this one and eventually found a really nice property which didn't appear to be infested but sure enough, on colder rainy days they would come in..strolling as if they owned the place. Shoulders squared and they'd sidle up to the bar and demand a beer and a shot of whiskey.

I can't say that I'd scream (all of the time). Every now then however, just when you are sitting quietly on the sofa a buzzing sound would swoop past your ear and that's when the shrieking would happen.

Arms would be flying around above head something akin to the Robot on "Lost in Space"

It didn't take me long to get on the phone, nearly breathless with wonder and worry to ask the exterminators in town the following question: How do I get rid of them?
Several of the companies just said that it was impossible.

One though, one of them thought they'd be smart-asses (which I can fully relate to) and a fellow said to me, "Ma'am, go on down to the pet-store and find some leashes because you've just adopted new pets. These things are here to stay. If you have German roaches I can kill those, if you have silverfish I can kill those too - Hell I can pretty much kill anything except just get used to it."

I accepted my company after that conversation, sure didn't like it but I had to take the bad with the good.

The good? What could be good about wood roaches prancing into the house on any given day?

The entertainment value it added when the cat's would go scurrying after them all the while chattering and alerting me that there were intruders. This way I could snatch up my trusty swatter and give chase to demolish them - if they didn't splat with my thunderous wallop I would crush them under my feet.

The sound of this is a surprising snap and a pop, I would even get a disturbing satisfaction like one does when they pop bubble wrap.

Final act: squish and pivot. The results are their whitish guts splattering on the floor and sticking to your sole.

Disappointment for the cats, the spoils were mine and I am trigger fast with a paper towel to swipe up the goo and flush.

For me.