5/9/2013. - Day 44 - Sometimes you're the windshield; Sometimes you're the bug. Sometimes it's kind of like that but not really.

5/9/2013. - Day 44 -
Sometimes you're the windshield;
Sometimes you're the bug.
Sometimes it's kind of like that but not really.

I reach up to touch my cheek after I feel something brush lightly against it. I am 98% still asleep and reposition on the couch and drift off. Moments later, I feel something brush my face again and slap at it. Back to sleep. Suddenly, I feel something tickling my neck...

In 0.04 seconds I go from almost completely asleep to an elevated level of hysteria that can only come from realizing that stay hair / piece of dust / mosquito I thought I was slapping at is in fact, a cockroach, which was on my face and is now in my bed.

I am immediately on full alert/karate mode, but not full out crazy mode because the threat has not been neutralized. I leap off the couch while fumbling for my cell phone and the flash light feature that takes FOREVER to load. I want to vomit just thinking about the scenario but I try to keep control of myself. I frantically try to locate the wounded cockroach while simultaneously yelling for Jamie- who responds in a barely audible voice that tells me she doesn't sense the concern coming from mine. I yell again and use a high voice to explain that she needs to awaken and come into the living room RIGHT NOW. There is a pause and a short delay but she does appear.

I stand over the couch poised in battle position, wielding my phone as my weapon of choice. I have spotlighted the wriggling cockroach carcass with my iPhone and instruct her to bring something to finish him off. Jamie enters with a wad of paper towels and calmly removes the intruder. Cue insanity.

I rush to the bathroom to scrub the side of my face, now that I've realized that the half dead cockroach cuddling my neck resulted from the very live cockroach that I slapped and half squished into my face seconds before. Now I really want to puke. I realize the hand I am scrubbing the side of my face with is also the hand I touched the cockroach with. I switch from scrubbing my face to scrubbing my hand. But now I'm touching the hand that touched the cockroach and now I can't breathe and I want to gag and I need to sit down because there's a lot of emotion in this bathroom right now in the middle of the night.

I sit down on top of the stool with my face in my hands and try to breathe normally and think about anything but cockroaches on my face in the night. I exit the bathroom and dance around Jamie's bedroom for awhile and make a few mostly unintelligible  words about fear and feeling sick and how I am not being overly dramatic. I start to walk back to the living room and realize that's where this whole thing started. I return to Jamie's room, crawl into bed with her, make clear that despite the fact that I despise sharing beds there is absolutely no way I am going back to the living room. Jamie mutters something about how I better not bring any roaches into HER bed and I almost lose it, countering with something about how it's HER house that caused me to have a roach on my face. Jamie sees this as not even important enough to remain awake for and is already asleep while I huddle on my side of the bed, clutching the sheets and trying not to vomit.

In the morning, Jamie leaves for work and the day is normal for everyone but me. I'm holding Dodger partially accountable for not acting on the threat and destroying it before it got to me. He and I are on delicate terms for today, but we are stuck with each other. I still feel all those legs touching my cheek and thus feel slightly sick for the remainder of the morning. There's no way I can fathom trying to talk about the incident without freaking out again; and it's all I can do NOT to think about it.

Dodger and I make the short drive to the other side of the apartment complex where there is a hose and a vacuum. After securing Dodger to a post nearby I begin the task of trying to clean out 8,000 miles of debris from the inside of my truck. The second I turn on the vacuum Dodger about hangs himself with his lease trying to flee in fear. I relocate him to the box of the truck and pray he does not leap out in fright. He remains on guard but does not leave the box. We return to the apartment largely without further incident.

Dodger and I play a little ball before I head out for the day. It's another gorgeous and sunny Charleston day, with the heat rising every second. The alligators are also out and about the complex--but given the seal situation in CA, I'm curious enough to look, but not curious enough to approach.

Another day crossing the long bridge into Charleston on two wheels. I weave through the city out to Folly Beach for one last day in the sand. Most of my day I spend napping, reading, and picking up a few sand volleyball games with new friends. A guy in flip flops rides on the back of my motorcycle back to his car after our last game and I head back to the apartment.

Jamie is home when I arrive and we make a last minute decision to try to catch a River Dogs baseball game. Unfortunately, upon arriving we find the general admission lines backed up with a never before seen crowd of baseball fans. We opt to wait in line for a bit but ditch that idea and head downtown for a nice dinner once we realize we will never get in the stadium.  Somewhere in conversation this evening Jamie and I decide I should stay one more day and that way we can spend one more Friday night together. It's a gorgeous night outside and we sit on the back patio of Poogan's Porch and enjoy Southern food. I'm loving fish lately and trying to diversify my palette into one that slightly resembles an adult. Fish is my best attempt as of now. I think I should get points for that since mac and cheese was on the menu and I did not order it.