Why am I not freaking out about the cockroach I found at the bottom of my steps, right out side my front door? Right. Outside. My. Home? Practically in my home?
You might ask, if you know me well enough to know I hate bugs. All bugs. But spiders, cockroaches, and earwigs most. (Bedbugs terrify me, but that's another story. Oh, and I'm no fan of silverfish or house centipedes, either). That's not in any particular order, by the way, when it comes to finding them in my house.
The answer is, that I'm drinking. A nice, tart margarita with extra triple sec. I'm not freaking out because I'm concentrating real hard on that floaty feeling I have right now, that just erases the creepiness of finding that cockroach on. my. turf.
A toast! To getting over bugs by drinking a cocktail!
The End.
Epilogue
I committed murder on that cockroach, in case you were wondering. I broke a small tree plant pot on it, and then I stabbed it repeatedly with a shard. I admit it. I stabbed a cockroach.
Thank god these aren't the kind you find in Georgia, or Florida. Fixing that situation would have required at least two margaritas. And a cockroach dance, no doubt similar to this one. And a much longer story.
oh my...what an end to a somewhat crazy day! At least there was a margarita involved :)
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