Do you wake up some days -or every day- feeling like such a failure because you have made this incredible to-do-list which you’d be sure to accomplish the next morning – but in reality, fall victim yet again to procrastination or rather, sheer laziness?
The word here is morning. So when, in fact, you wake up -being the very lazy piece of poop that you are- at 4pm, you start to feel like you lost all the good daylight to power yourself up and start on your mini projects. Then, chances are that you lost all motivation to do anything except make brunch (because, hungry) and a good ol’ iced coffee. Then, you proceed to binge-watch an entire season of Jane the Virgin and decided that you kinda hate yourself for being useless.
So, back to the point where I lost all motivation to be a real human being who actually contributes to society – I headed for the kitchen (of my really beautiful airbnb apartment in Bucharest) to whip up some real simple brunch. Simple because I can’t cook. But I was hungry, and I was too lazy and broke to call food delivery. So spicy baby potatoes and a sunny-side up egg it is.
With quite a great deal of excitement, I proceeded towards the cosy, bright kitchen. I was filled with motivation to accomplish at the very least, a tasty brunch for myself. Just then, to my horror – I saw a baby cockroach on the floor of the entrance to the kitchen. At that point in time, one of my biggest fears have just been realised.
The thing was upturned; I see ALOT of legs, it was unmoving, still – and again, I see so. many. legs. But at the very least it was not moving. Or at least that’s what I thought.
I walked into the kitchen dodging this little fella, reached the sink unscathed – and heaved the biggest sigh of relief. At this point, I should come forward and admit that the size of this thing was smaller than a regular human thumb. So fine, it was a baby cockroach but like a little bigger. So, like a teenage cockroach?
Anyway, cockroaches – I can’t. It’s almost as if somewhere in my DNA, there is a sequence that codes for a serious fear of cockroaches. And then another DNA sequence right beside that codes for a “and there’s nothing you can do about this” trait.
So while standing frozen in fear by the sink, I was distracted –but for only a minute– of the mounting heap of dishes that are yelling at me to be done. Oily, lumpy – quite disgusting. But nothing as icky as that little upside-down fella greeting me at the kitchen entrance. Then, my mind went back to it and I tried to retrace the events of yesterday night and what possibly could have led to the emergence of this many-legged thing into my life, even for just a few minutes.
It was about 10pm when I got really hungry and decided to cook myself some pasta (that’s honestly the only thing I do even remotely okay at). Pan hot, added in my chopped garlic and hot chilli and let them do the work for a bit. Then, I decided to open the window exactly right next to the stove that sits in the balcony (very lonely arrangement, yes but it was a cosy kitchen and it fact I loved how as you cook, you could also admire the wonderfully peaceful Romanian neighbourhood surrounding your apartment).
That’s when a dark insect with very fluttery wings flew in – or rather stumbled in, like a handicapped or hurt flying insect. It crashed into the floor beside this crevice formed from between the tabletop and stove and managed to hide somewhere my eyes couldn’t seek it. At this point, let me admit yet again that the light at the balcony was non-existent, the only light emitting faintly from was from the kitchen beside it. And also I have night blindness. No amount of carrots or carrot juice have seemed to help me, but there it is.
So with my bad eyesight in the dim light, I made out that this insect was kinda like a moth. And it was so badly hurt I wasn’t feeling threatened by its semi-existence (since it looked like its due date was up, with its unstable fluttering and all). So, I made the executive decision to let it chill. I continued with my cooking (in the dark) and boy, was the pasta greasy and yummy.
Flash back to present day.
So it clearly wasn’t a moth.
All this way into the story and I haven’t yet explained how the circumstances finally led me to finishing this bugger off – or did I?
Standing in front of the cockroach – but still about a good 5 feet away, I was pretty much frozen in terror. I like to think I’m quite a fearless person, I like to travel the world by myself and actually did that with like $500 in my account with no planned income the coming month – so yeah, kinda fearless right?
But this was different. I could not move, I was sweating and helpless. In front of a bug that’s the size of my thumb. Smaller, actually.
I wanted the day to turn out different, I really did. I had plans to wake up at 7am, have a nice warm shower, head out for a coffee and walk for a good 40mins to the beautiful old town in Bucharest and visit an art museum and an enormous bookstore.
But instead, I woke up to this.
Clearly for literary pursuits, I exaggerate. But I’m not exaggerating when I say I was quite disappointed at myself for letting a tiny little thing such as a flying cockroach ruin my mood for hours and changing the course of my day.
Okay, but I still have to deal with this bugger and get rid of it right?
So then, I placed – or threw, same thing – this paper towel (the kind you use at parties, fancy thick kinds) on it to cover its hideous appearance, and insane number of legs. And alas – it MOVED. Those legs moved and it actually struggled successfully out of the bloody paper towel to reveal – yet again, those legs just rapidly moving away, like it wasn’t a crime. Goodness gracious!
At that point, I just told myself that this is it. I am done. With life. It’s just not worth it. Okay, then I laughed. I was being ridiculous.
Back to the cockroach. It was struggling alot, so clearly it wasn’t dead. To deal with a semi-alive FLYING cockroach is honestly one of my greatest fears, besides being alone in the dark, given whatever circumstance.
And then the horror begins, if it hadn’t already – it started to flip itself over.
The worse thing that could happen then was literally if its resuscitated self rolled over and ran, or FLEW away. So, like the proverb goes, I had to strike when the iron’s hot. (Well, I’m pretty sure the proverb offered a different kind of context than this one I’m in, but things are subjective, right? I just see it this way.)
Then, after giving myself 2 minutes to stare in horror while trying to get my brain to work on a fool-proof plan on cockroach extermination, I threw more tissues onto the fella to hopefully “blind” it so it couldn’t know where to run (I was desperate!), unfortunately missed several times and only allowed said bug to wriggle more and freak me out more, and finally covered it like a massive blanket would – and I grabbed a nearby kettle and started smashing its body into smithereens – or so I hoped.
After the smashing action, I gave myself another good 2 minutes to reflect on what I have done. At this point, my thoughts of being a better human being starting with eradicating violent thoughts from my system, and treating things I dislike with more love and compassion – all just kinda, flew out the window. That same good ol’ window that the cockroach flew in to my life.
Lest to say, I was not too proud of myself. I wished there was another way that would involve non-violence, but I did the deed, and I was very deliberately violent. As if things weren’t graphic enough, I still went back at its (presumably already dead) body and whacked it with the kettle 2 more times just to make sure I didn’t make a mistake like missing a spot or underestimating its size. Yeah, pretty sure it’s dead 2 times over now.
Then I finally mustered up the courage to grab it up –not without the help of more paper towels– and threw it into the bin. Last but not least, I shut the trash bin’s lid tightly down so the nasty little dead bugger couldn’t resurrect one more time.