So I walked into the apartment around 11pm, and turned on the lights in my room.
Scuttle, scuttle, scuttle.
What. The. Heck.
Michelangelo was at it again. He was up to his creepy trick of appearing in darkness and hiding when the light exposed his disgusting, little self (if you are reading this and don’t know who in the world Michelangelo is, click here for a brief tale).
Now, instead of blogging about a magazine production company or field trips to Times Square, I’m writing about an ugly bug who destroys my feelings of safety and security.
I know you think I’m crazy. But I’ve just got to tell you about “the showdown.”
The lights are already on. My main objective at the moment is to recharge my dying phone. So I edge toward the desk, only to the see the backend of my little brown friend crawl behind a book on my printer.
The antennas are sticking up, while the rest of Michelangelo is hidden. I begin to panic. He knows I’m watching him, and I KNOW he’s watching me. After two minutes of hardly breathing, I run and grab Tupperware from the kitchen.
“You will die,” I said, vehemently.
But I was so scared of this bug that my arms began to shake. Can I just say, this is the one time in my life I really wanted a boyfriend?! I know that’s all gender bias and what not (thank you college education) but it’s the truth! I thought to myself, “Now if only a boy were here, I would not still be looking at a book hiding a bug”… or even if an unafraid-of-bugs-kinda-girl could be summoned (Katelyn James I needed you!). Alas, that girl is not me. Newark, NJ feels homey, and NYC is like a safe haven compared to the thought of harboring a bug in my room while I sleep.
So I’m still staring at the antenna two minutes later thinking about possible boyfriends that could take care of this. Then the thought occurs to me: I’ll put plastic bags on my hands! Yes, plastic bags will give me the courage to finally use this Tupperware and capture Michelangelo.
Now I’ve got little plastic bags on both hands and I’m holding a little plastic bowl and lid. “One… two…three…” No! I can’t do it. Bungee jumping was easier than this. “One… two…three!” No, no, no. I start talking myself into it again, counting and counting but to no avail.
Then another thought strikes me: maybe Michelangelo is no longer there. I had made several kitchen runs, and now we were going on minute 10 of “the showdown.” So I whapped my printer twice.
He appears on the binding of my book on the top of my printer. This is bad for two reasons: 1) I squealed really loudly 2) Because he’s on the binding of a book, he is in an awkward position and I can’t quite catch him. More staring ensues. Minutes 11 and 12 of “the showdown” were really rough.
“Okay Britney. Do you want to sleep tonight? It’s sleep… or the bug…” After several “oh my gosh‘s” and “I hate you’s” something finally made me move.
SLAM! I threw the Tupperware on the bug, while also pulling off two of his legs (unintentionally – though I wasn’t sorry).
“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Eeeeeeeeh! Ew. Stop! Stop moving. Oh my gosh I hate this.” You don’t have to tell me that I sounded like an idiot.
But now I had a whole new predicament. I couldn’t leave my post without Michelangelo escaping, so I squealed again, and stomped my foot like a two-year-old. “Anna!” I said it softly at first. Then after I heard her get out of bed, my voice rose to a normal tone. “Anna!!” She came rushing in and saved the day with a folder we were able to stick under the plastic bowl. Finally after flushing the bug down the toilet, I looked at Anna with remorse.
You see, I’m 90% positive that was not Michelangelo from last night. In fact I’m pretty sure that was Ricardo, who just so happens to be a whole different bug entirely.