Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Charlotte, Cockroach Slayer
As I have certainly previously mentioned, I am not a fan of the tropical bugs. Generally, Charlotte is the one who does the bug slaying around here. Last night she grabbed a two inch cockroach with her bare hands to dispose of it outside. So tonight when I was driving us home from some beach house shenanigans and she shuddered and twiched and told me in a very serious voice to "pull over now I was mildly freaked out. Turns out there is a Hawaiian centipede (bigger and biteyer and nastier than the Canadian variety) somewhere in the car. So we pull into the centre turn lane, switch on the four-ways and beat at seats with our flip-flops. Satisfied that it must be gone, we drive giddilly on, Charlotte with her sandal in one hand. Two lights from home a plastic bag has worked its way from the backseat to under my seat and the handle blows and tickles my leg from ankle to knee. I twitch wildly but manage to pull over and the second search reveals the bag. When we arrive back, we empty the entire van (which is stuffed full of gear), shaking everything out. We have all our crap in a big pile on the lawn when both dogs suddenly start to growl at it with their teeth bared. Needless to say, we got a little jumpy. After all of that adrenalin I even managed to slay my own roach tonight in the bathroom using sneaky antics that are better told using actions.
But it's not all creatures and fright. Tonight we found out that this guy named Andreas that I've been calling 'the underwear model' actually was a model (insert Derek Zoolander face here) and now Char can't stop giggling when she sees him. And we're getting up early early tomorrow to kayak out and swim with dolphins (and sharks?) so that should be loverly. So I should sleep now. Goodnight, sweet roach.
As I have certainly previously mentioned, I am not a fan of the tropical bugs. Generally, Charlotte is the one who does the bug slaying around here. Last night she grabbed a two inch cockroach with her bare hands to dispose of it outside. So tonight when I was driving us home from some beach house shenanigans and she shuddered and twiched and told me in a very serious voice to "pull over now I was mildly freaked out. Turns out there is a Hawaiian centipede (bigger and biteyer and nastier than the Canadian variety) somewhere in the car. So we pull into the centre turn lane, switch on the four-ways and beat at seats with our flip-flops. Satisfied that it must be gone, we drive giddilly on, Charlotte with her sandal in one hand. Two lights from home a plastic bag has worked its way from the backseat to under my seat and the handle blows and tickles my leg from ankle to knee. I twitch wildly but manage to pull over and the second search reveals the bag. When we arrive back, we empty the entire van (which is stuffed full of gear), shaking everything out. We have all our crap in a big pile on the lawn when both dogs suddenly start to growl at it with their teeth bared. Needless to say, we got a little jumpy. After all of that adrenalin I even managed to slay my own roach tonight in the bathroom using sneaky antics that are better told using actions.
But it's not all creatures and fright. Tonight we found out that this guy named Andreas that I've been calling 'the underwear model' actually was a model (insert Derek Zoolander face here) and now Char can't stop giggling when she sees him. And we're getting up early early tomorrow to kayak out and swim with dolphins (and sharks?) so that should be loverly. So I should sleep now. Goodnight, sweet roach.
