Ok, so I get up at 630am in the dark. Every morning I flip on the kitchen light expecting to see that Emma shit in the kitchen. She usually doesn't, only really when we have storms overnight, but that doesn't stop me from obsessing about it.
So this morning I flip on the light and look down (thankfully). There is a giant cockroach on its back wiggling around.
We have roaches in NC that fly. Yes we do. They are about 2 inches long and fly around outside and hang out on trees doing God knows what. This was one of them.
I love winter because it kills most of the bugs. I DESPISE the fact that it drives some of the bugs indoors to make my life miserable. I hate bugs. I HATE BUGS.
So I do NOT scream. Rich is very proud of me. I asked him. So after not screaming I looked around for a suitable container for this nasty guest. NOTHING. I open the trash can and spy two things. A piece of junk mail, and a Mission Tortilla zipper bag. I bent over and attempted to slide the roach onto the mail while still on his back. It took 4 tries, and when I finally did it the motherfucker FLIPPED OVER and started walking on the mail. I DID NOT SCREAM.
I shoved the junk mail and roach into the zipper bag as fast as I could and sealed the bag. He was pretty pissed; I could tell. So the whole thing went into the garbage can because one thing I will NOT do is stand outside, open that bag, and attempt to shake him out of there onto the ground. Fuck that.
I currently have a hostage in my trash can, possibly asphixiating from lack of air, possibly not. I don't care. IF he does die I'll pull his worthless corpse out of the can, still in the bag, and nail that bag to the front door as a warning to any other nasty fucks who want to come inside.
And if PETA wants to ride me over this one they can kiss my skinny white ass.