We Might Have Wildfires, But at Least We Don’t Have These
One year, my husband Richard and I lived in Dallas, Texas, home to creatures known as palmetto bugs, a somewhat jaunty-sounding insect, I thought at first. Then Richard described them. “They look like cockroaches but they’re giant,” Richard told me. “And they can fly.”
Well, that sounded pretty yukky. I imagined a very large cockroach, about the size of a date, which definitely produced some shudders. Flying, though, didn’t sound quite as horrible as scuttling. I had a particular loathing for scuttling, especially when performed by a cockroach. So, I felt I was prepared for my first encounter.
One hot, muggy afternoon I was at home by myself, making gazpacho for dinner. When it was done, I set it on the counter while I briefly left the room. When I returned, this is the scene that awaited me:
A cockroach the size of a gerbil was perched on the rim of the stainless steel bowl in which I had prepared the gazpacho. And it was lapping at the soup like a horse guzzling water from a trough. When it turned its head to look at me, I could see that it possessed the intelligence of a Jack Russell terrier at least, if not some lower primate. It scrutinized me, judged me as no threat, and went back to slurping up my gazpacho.
Well.
I could not have a cockroach the size of a Nerf ball thinking it could boss me around in my own apartment! Besides, it turned out that I was shrieking in horror. I heard the sound before I realized that I was the one making it. In a blind panic, every cell in my body recoiling from the possibility that this thing could come flying into my face, I grabbed the bowl, threw the entire contents into the garbage disposal, and turned it on.
The palmetto bug came crawling back up out of the disposal! This was like the worst horror movie ever! Like that movie where the indestructible, flesh-sucking blob comes oozing up out of the shower drain! Screaming my head off the whole time, I whacked away maniacally at the sink with the stainless steel bowl.
But the worst was yet to come. This insect—with, as I indicated earlier, the apparent intelligence of a small dog or lemur—scrutinized me yet again, seemed to take pity on my hysteria, and headed back down into the garbage disposal. Or maybe it thought death by garbage disposal was better than death by stainless steel bowl bludgeoning. Whatever the reason, back down it went, I imagine to a certain death.
I did the right thing, didn’t I? I couldn’t have a bossy, flying Godzilla of a cockroach thinking it could push me around, could I? I couldn’t, right? So why did I feel like a killer?
I don’t know. I just hope none of his relatives know where I live.
But yeah, we’re still having wildfires. Sigh. The above photo was taken from my office window day before yesterday, of the Market St. Fire that erupted in north Redding, burned into Turtle Bay, and threatened the densely populated and commercial Hilltop Dr. Everyone is praying for rain. Feel free to join in.
Thursday, August 28, 2008