Shower Dance

Ever since the great flood, we have been chasing creepy crawly uninvited guests out of the house. I understand that they are just seeking shelter, but this one is occupied. They really need to move on. 

So yesterday I had just stepped into the shower and as I starting working the water through my hair I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. I focused on the blur and there it was, between the shower curtain and liner. A roach the size of my thumb. I’m totally not exaggerating. Hold up your thumb. Go ahead, I’ll wait. Hold up your thumb and picture two giant waving antennae growing out of the top of it. Gross, right?  At first I couldn’t move.  I was shocked out of my paralysis when it started to inch up the curtain. It was nearly to the top and the last barrier between me and that vile creature was quickly diminishing.

“DEEEEEWIE! HEEEEEEEELP!”

“What?”

“HELP ME! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”  She runs in the bathroom.

“Giant roach coming over the curtain. I don’t know what to do. I’m naked and wet and it’s gonna get me!” She peeks into the shower.

“Ooooh yeah. That’s a big one.” Why is she talking all calm like that? This is an emergency!

“GET IT!”

“Where’s Sgt. Swat?”

“On top of the fridge. HURRY!” Dewie disappears. The roach reaches the top of the curtain. “DEWIE! IT’S COMING OVER THE TOP! IT’S COMING OVER THE TOP! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO! WHAT IF IT GETS ON ME?” The roach hangs there with its little sticky legs hanging over the top, waving its gross long antennae menacingly.

“Well at least turn the water off. Why are you saying everything twice?”

“I DON’T KNOW! ” Dewie draws back like she’s going to smack it. “YOU CAN’T SMACK IT THROUGH THE CURTAIN; YOU’RE JUST GOING TO FLIP IN ON ME! IT’S GONNA GET ON MY LADY BUSINESS! OH GOD WHAT IF IT GETS ON MY LADY BUSINESS?!?!”

“Just be still and get out of the way.”

“How can I be still AND get out of the way? Put a towel down so I can get out of..” Dewie smacks the roach. It tumbles into the tub, still very much alive. Panic moves my ass. While releasing a squeal I’m not particularly proud of, I shove Dewie out of the way and tear out of the shower, dripping water all over the place. As I stand there making a puddle I start channeling the Cobra Kai Sensei. I can’t stop yelling, “FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!”

Dewie recovers from the shove and smooshes that bastard on the bottom of the tub, and then throws him in the toilet.

“Flush it twice, just in case.”  She flushes the roach down the toilet.

“You ok?”

“I’m not sure. Beat the curtain and make sure there aren’t anymore.”

“It’s fine. Finish your shower.”

And I did. Nervously. I did almost bust my ass when I saw the little magnet thingy in the bottom of the liner. But I recovered. Barely.

Egg-sactly!

Grocery shopping is usually one of my favorite pastimes. Let’s face it. I enjoy food. A lot. I also enjoy putting together delicious dishes with as little money as possible. It’s become a kind of a game for me. I spend the morning perusing the ads online and make a game plan as to which stores I am going to patronize and in what order. I know it’s sad, but it gives me a buzz. I love it.

This afternoon, my last stop was Publix. It’s one of my favorites because it’s clean, well lit, beautifully merchandized and the customer service is amazing. I also know when they get their shipments so I can snag the freshest produce and hit the amazing “buy one get one” sales before they’re sold out. Yes, I have put THAT much effort into this. Today however, Publix was a madhouse. It’s Thursday and I’m already aware of the sales, so I can’t fathom any reason for the crowd. I decide to brave it anyway. Apart from the masses of rude people, everything seems pretty normal, until I get to the dairy case.

I round the corner to pick out some eggs and the whole area is demolished. It looks like a midget has been river dancing on the shelves. There’s broken eggs on the floor and strewn over into the yoghurt cups. Almost all the cartons are open with smashed shells stuck to the inside. I’m so shocked that I muse out loud, “What the hell is up with the eggs?”

An adorable old woman in turquoise linen capris and matching blouse walks up beside me. I notice her white hair is wound into a perfect French twist as she reaches over and pats my arm as only little old ladies do.  I immediately feel bad for swearing in front of her but before I can apologize she croaks, “It’s Easter, dear.”

“That’s right, I forgot about that. What is wrong with people?”

The little old lady leans in close enough for me to smell the peppermint on her breath and points to the wreckage in front of her. “You said it, dear. They’re fucking animals. You’d think people will die if they don’t color their damn eggs.”

Pure joy. I love old people.