When my alarm clock went off this morning, I had no idea what was in store for me in the first thirty minutes of my day. I simply wiped the sleep from my eyes, padded to the bathroom, and started my morning routine with a steamy hot shower.
Showering, and other bathroom moments, are rarely a single-person sport in my house. In most cases, one of our four feline friends will accompany us while we “take care of business.” This morning was no exception, and our orange kitty, Scooter, followed me into the bathroom and took up his place next to the bathmat. I took off my jammies, waited until the water was piping hot, then stepped inside.
Nothing gets me going in the morning like a nice, hot shower. When I was squeaky clean, I turned the water off and reached out for my towel, trying to keep the shower curtain as closed as possible. You know…so all the steam stays inside and you can be warm for a little while longer.
I’m a two-towel girl: one for my hair, another for my body. I wrapped Towel Number One around my head, and went for Towel Number Two. That’s when I noticed something strange. Scooter was still in his favorite Mom’s Taking A Shower spot, but he was no longer curled up and napping in the steam-filled room.
Instead, he was at Full Cat Attention. His whiskers and tail were twitching, and he was trembling with feline delight.
When his Eye Lasers are trained on one specific spot, it can only mean one thing.
We had company.
Crappity crap crap. I was home alone, the husband off to day two at his new job. If it was an eight-legged You Know What, I was veritably trapped in the bathroom until Brian got home from work.
It was going to be a long day.
I drew the shower curtain open all the way, terrified of what I might find.
And found a Palmetto Bug the size of a hover board instead.
There I am, naked and wet, at my most vulnerable, trapped in the bathtub by a giant, evil bug from hell. Awesome. I spent the next five minutes trying to convince my cat to pounce on it. However, he just sat there, totally frozen, my pleas of “SICK IT, SCOOTER!” gone unanswered.
I begin considering my options. Staying in the tub, unclothed and freezing, isn’t one of them. I think about dropping a heavy shampoo bottle on it’s head, but know I’ll miss. And if it starts climbing into the tub, I’ll loose my Cheerios. That’s when I spot the most likely weapon for this scenario, sitting across the bathroom in the corner.
Toilet plunger. Bingo.
I take a deep breath, position myself on the far end of the tub away from the bug, and leap for the plunger. In that moment, I was not Abby, Naked and Scared. I was Abby, Bug Killer Warrior Princess.
Needless to say, when I started swinging the plunger, Scooter beat feet for the door as fast as his puffy tail could take him.
The first time I whacked the bug, it bounced and, unscathed, scurried underneath the skirt of the shower curtain. Near my feet. I whirled around, ripped the shower curtain up and over the lip of the tub. No bug on the floor. It had scurried up into the shower curtain, and was trapped somewhere between the decorative curtain and the plastic liner. I gave it a hefty shake, and the bug fell out into the tub, trapped on his back, all six legs waggling in the air, trying to find a foothold to flip itself over.
I didn’t give it that chance.
With three mighty smacks, I neutralized the threat with my handy dandy toilet plunger. Problem solved.
Except now there was a dead body in the bottom of my tub.
Not willing to use up a number of plastic bags and duct tape, I considered my options. There was no way in hell I was going to pick that huge sucker up with toilet paper. Nuh unh. I hadn’t finished my “O Magazine” yet, either, and even though it was the closest scooping mechanism nearby, I wasn’t willing to get bug cooties on it for the sake of body disposal. I thought a spatula would probably work best, but, um, ew.
And then, a lightbulb moment. (Thanks, Oprah.) I scurried to the kitchen (still naked, mind you), and scrounged around in a drawer for a minute until I came up with a rarely used, plastic picnic spatula. Back to the bathroom I went. I scooped up the now deceased bugger, and sent him to his watery grave.
After I took a morning swig of vodka. Straight out of the bottle.