Another "juke" story
When I was in the army, one of my roommates told me about the time she awoke (in our bedroom on the base) to a cockroach on her face. Until that very moment, such a horror had never even occurred to me.
As a result of my new awareness, I took as many precautions as I could think of. For years, I slept with the windows closed on sweltering hot nights. Made sure there was no food, nor food remnants, lying around longer than necessary. Sprayed poison and had exterminators spray. Put in screens wherever possible.
Despite all my routine precautions, the realization of my Worst Irrational Fear reared its ugly head, yet again. (Read about the first time this happened here.)
Last week, I was asleep in my bedroom at my parents' apartment. I awoke with a start at 4:00, sensing a weight on my neck (which, thank God, was covered by my hair), the weight of a small mouse. (I worked with small mice during my M.Sc.) I swatted at the thing on my neck, hoping against all hope it was a only a mouse... hopped out of bed energetically and ran to switch on the light...
On my sheet was a disgusting being, the size of a date. I let out a SCREECH, this time mindful of my dad's heart (see first story): "DON'T WORRY, I'M OK. IT'S JUST A COCKROACH. I'M OK!!!"
My dad came out to me. My mom came out to me.
Me, wanting to make sure my dad didn't get mad at me this time (he didn't), adrenaline making my voice loud: "DID YOU HEAR ME? I SAID I'M OK! IT'S JUST A COCKROACH!"
We turned to look at my bed. No cockroach in sight.
My mom: "Are you sure that's what it was?" YES, I'M SURE!
We searched a while, but didn't find it. I calmed down a little bit, and went to sleep with my mom. I lay there, shaking on the inside, and clutching at her hand. After about 20 minutes of this, my mom asked me if I wanted to go look for it. Yes, of course I did!
She brought me the Raid. I braced myself. Took a breath. Opened the door and switched on the light. On the floor, scurrying away quickly was the offensive thing. I sprayed. And sprayed. And sprayed.
My mom walked into my bedroom and gave me a play-by-play, "It's slowing down! It's dying! I'll squash it!" And squash it she did. To bits.
It was days before I could sleep again.
* "Juke" is one of the Hebrew words for cockroach. I find it slightly more congenial than the English word, which I usually can't bring myself to speak.
As a result of my new awareness, I took as many precautions as I could think of. For years, I slept with the windows closed on sweltering hot nights. Made sure there was no food, nor food remnants, lying around longer than necessary. Sprayed poison and had exterminators spray. Put in screens wherever possible.
Despite all my routine precautions, the realization of my Worst Irrational Fear reared its ugly head, yet again. (Read about the first time this happened here.)
Last week, I was asleep in my bedroom at my parents' apartment. I awoke with a start at 4:00, sensing a weight on my neck (which, thank God, was covered by my hair), the weight of a small mouse. (I worked with small mice during my M.Sc.) I swatted at the thing on my neck, hoping against all hope it was a only a mouse... hopped out of bed energetically and ran to switch on the light...
On my sheet was a disgusting being, the size of a date. I let out a SCREECH, this time mindful of my dad's heart (see first story): "DON'T WORRY, I'M OK. IT'S JUST A COCKROACH. I'M OK!!!"
My dad came out to me. My mom came out to me.
Me, wanting to make sure my dad didn't get mad at me this time (he didn't), adrenaline making my voice loud: "DID YOU HEAR ME? I SAID I'M OK! IT'S JUST A COCKROACH!"
We turned to look at my bed. No cockroach in sight.
My mom: "Are you sure that's what it was?" YES, I'M SURE!
We searched a while, but didn't find it. I calmed down a little bit, and went to sleep with my mom. I lay there, shaking on the inside, and clutching at her hand. After about 20 minutes of this, my mom asked me if I wanted to go look for it. Yes, of course I did!
She brought me the Raid. I braced myself. Took a breath. Opened the door and switched on the light. On the floor, scurrying away quickly was the offensive thing. I sprayed. And sprayed. And sprayed.
My mom walked into my bedroom and gave me a play-by-play, "It's slowing down! It's dying! I'll squash it!" And squash it she did. To bits.
It was days before I could sleep again.
* "Juke" is one of the Hebrew words for cockroach. I find it slightly more congenial than the English word, which I usually can't bring myself to speak.
Comments
Post a Comment
If you want to leave a comment, I would be delighted.