Not for the fainthearted

YuckAfter 6 years living in Texas and 3 living here, it finally happened.  I saw a legendary flying huge cockroach.  Ick.  Thankfully, I was in a guest house and not my own house when I saw him.  Thankfully it didn’t fly right at me.  But it did fly.  Ick.  And don’t try to reassure me and tell me it’s a water bug.  That is a cucaracha.  Or in French, a cafard. Interestingly enough, cafard is also slang for being depressed.

Back to the bug, I dropped one of my favorite sandals on him, not wanting to get too close.  He just shrugged it off and walked out from under it.  Not having a hiking boot with me to drop on him, or an anvil,  or a rifle/shotgun/flamethrower/Uzi to shoot at him, I smacked him with the aforesaid favorite sandal.  The picture is of him, recently deceased, next to a Q-tip to give you an idea of the size.  Ick.  There are reasons other than mosquitos that I sleep inside a mosquito net.  Ick.

Published by Nora McNamara

Lover of languages and linguistics. Besotted Auntie. Jesus follower. Sacred Harp singer.

4 thoughts on “Not for the fainthearted

  1. nah…jeff and his lovely daughter simone only like ’em when they’re alive and squirming…(notice i said “his” lovely daughter)

  2. Oh gross, just read the Rock Run blog (click on Dennis Papp to the left and look for Access Launch). Jeff does eat bugs. Do they taste like chicken?

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