Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

Roach Motel

A while ago my office suffered an infestation of cockroaches.

Following the infestation Zoe and Chuck (but mostly Zoe) took turns leaving a huge plastic cockroach leftover from Halloween around the house. (Sorry, the pic is a bit fuzzy)

I would be going about my daily duties and come upon it. The first few times it scared the shit out of me. Then I became immune. Finally, I got to the place where I saw the humor in it.

But that was back in August and September.

Well....now it’s January. Memories of the huge cockroach, and the infestation, have faded. Which clearly makes me a ripe target or further cockroach hijinks.

So tonight I am preparing dinner. Salad is made and set aside on the counter, next to the sink. Potatoes are baking away. Steaks are finishing off in the oven, timed perfectly to be finished cooking with the potatoes. I’m a dinner diva (when I actually deign to cook a meal).

I turn from the stove to go back to the sink. Out of the corner of my eye I see the salad. And I see something huge and brown in the salad.

Screaming ensued. Terror screaming. Following by the shrill scream of my daughter’s entire name (cuz you know you’re in trouble when your mother calls you by your first, middle, and last name) summoning her to the kitchen. Immediately.

But, my precious princess was on the potty and unable to heed my call. My husband heard the screaming and came running. We both met outside the bathroom door. He wanted to know what the “fuss” was all about. I told him.

This was his reaction:

My family are a bunch of comedians. Or at least they like to think so.

Posted by beth at January 12, 2004 07:35 PM