When Bugs Attack!

What the hell, y’all? So last night, I was going downstairs to take my dinner plate to the kitchen after having eaten my sad little microwave burrito in front of the t.v. in rr’s room (only it wasn’t sad because it had lots and lots of sour cream on it). I passed my Ikea zen prints on the wall. Ikea doesn’t call them “zen prints,” but they are all green and nature and restful and not overly busy, so that’s what I call them. I am lazy and cheap, and so is rr, so we are not averse to kickin’ it old school like the college students we were 10 years ago and sticking the prints directly on the wall with that sticky putty stuff, sans frame. It was dark in the apartment (because of aformentioned cheapness), but with the moonlight coming in, I could see the outlines of shapes.

So as I’m passing the print closest to the top of the stairs, I think nothing of it as I hear a sound like something brushing against paper. I figured I walked too close to the print and brushed against it. But then the noise repeated. Repeatedly. 'Hmm, that's odd,' I thought, and I turned around to investigate. And like in any stock horror film, I timed it so that I turned around just in time to see an enormous bug descending from the print . . . right . . . onto . . . my head. In the ensuing moment of chaos, I managed to comprehend that this was one of those horrible, awful flying gigantor roach things. My reaction was not heroic (as usual).

Ok, picture that scene from Clue, the one where Mrs. Peacock thinks that maybe the cognac was poisoned and starts screaming. Now picture the later scene where Wadsworth and Mr. Green reenact her screaming fit. Yeah. That was me. All that. Arm gestures and all.

I think I did some impressive dance moves, mostly involving swiping my hand furiously over my head, waving my arms around in the air, and shifting my weight from foot to foot as I ran down the stairs. Head swipe, back swipe, head swipe, shuffle, shuffle down the stairs, head swipe, run down the stairs, head swipe, back swipe, head swipe, head swipe, head swipe, jazz hands.

Impressive.

Anyway, I get down the stairs and run into the kitchen, hoping to find the febreeze. Febreeze and it’s main competitor (name escapes me at the moment) are effective at killing bugs, or at least slowing them down long enough for you to stomp on them. No Febreeze in the kitchen, but I did find Downy Wrinkle Releaser. I grabbed it, set it to “stun” (i.e., “on”), and headed to the stairs.

At this point my cat Gabby settled on the landing half way down, all casual and “hey, what’s going on?” and no help at all. She watched me for a minute and then strolled downstairs, parked herself in front of a chair and proceeded to stare intently at a spot under the chair. I of course decided that It must be there. But It wasn’t. I looked, didn’t see anything, swiped at my head and back, looked again, lather, rinse, repeat.

I moved on to staring at the stairs, and after several moments of standing completely still (so as to be able to hear It), I saw It crawl out from underneath the throw rug on the landing. I began my spraying onslaught. I managed to slow It down, but that sucker would not stop moving. It was like It had some kind of super powers. And also? Huge. Finally, It crawled into where part of the rug had folded over on itself. I was glad of this, because it meant that I could stomp on the rug covering It and therefore squish It without actually having to touch It with my shoe. So I fiercely stomped stomped stomped on It. I took a peek, and that sucker was still moving. I covered It back up, stomped as hard as I could a couple of times, peeked, still moving. Barely, but still. I got a hammer and finished him off, very horror movie like.

Half an hour later, my heart was still pounding.

So here are my questions.
(1) Where the heck are all the bugs coming from? (have I mentioned before that we have been having beetles galore? Slow-moving, easy to kill beetles, but still! And one got on my arm the other day! Much screaming.)
(2) Why is rr always in class when I’m attacked by a bug?
(3) Will I ever feel safe in my own home again? Last night I spent the whole rest of the evening doing double takes thinking I’d spotted something else about to drop on me. It just might drive me actually crazy.

Right now, I’m still grossed out about it and don’t want to eat my breakfast blueberry muffin (see previous post on how easily I get grossed out). So what, exactly, should I do to defend my turf? I'm in the trenches, and I need a Maginot line, here, y’all! Only, you know, effective.