life and death in the bathroom

i’m going to admit to a somewhat creepy/terrible experiment that i have going on in my bathroom over the last week.

i woke up at about 4am either monday or tuesday morning and went to the bathroom, only to find a 2 and a half inch long cockroach on my wall. i didn’t know exactly what to do about it, seeing that i don’t have much in my bathroom other than a toilet and a tub, so the first weapon type object i grabbed was my plunger. as he ran across the floor at speeds that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, i managed to plop the plunger down on top of him. for half a second i thought i had won, until the thought occured to me that there is still a live cockroach under the plunger, and getting him out from under there meant releasing him. at this point in time, i was far too tired, and decided i’d go to bed and deal with him in the morning.

in the morning i saw the plunger in the middle of my bathroom and for a second wondered why. quickly remembering my little prisoner, laziness once again took over, and instead of doing something about it, i just slowly scooted the plunger back into it’s normal position, leaving the cockroach under there. typing this out, i’m starting to realize just how sick this was. so i decided i’d figure out how long he could live under there, without food, or trash, or whatever they eat.

a couple days past, and i lifted up the plunger, and was amazed to see him there, twitching his anntanneas, and about to run before i dropped it back down. i guess this guy would be with me longer than i expected.

a few more days past, and they ended up being a week, and just moments ago, i lifted up the plunger to see a sight not all that uncommon: cockroach on it’s back, legs folded up, dead.

in a weird way, i had some sort of odd respect for the guy. i mean, looking back, i feel really weird doing it, not that smashing it with toilet paper would have been all that much better, but i imagine starving to death is not a good way to die. even if you are a cockroach. i think the thing that struck me the most is the eerie visual similarity of the cockroach on his back and the way we bury our dead. he lay under my plunger, on his back, arms folded almost as if at somepoint, he accepted his fate, turned over, crossed his arms and legs, and gave up the ghost. perhaps i’m odd for feeling this way about a cockroach…perhaps it’s odd i did this at all. i’m just amazed that this is the kinda stuff that goes through my head at night.

a lesson in rolling with the punches

one of two things is happening: a) i have someone escaped death’s design, and it is hunting me down much like it/he/she did in final destination, or b) God is teaching me a lesson in patience in that way that i hope He and i will laugh about later. either way…i’ve had a tough week.

now i do know that there are people out there who have things much worse than i do, but i’m judging on a scale of middle class white guy grade. let me explain further, using dates and details compiled via official government documents and whatnot. heh.

May 17th: driving up north 75 in the rain, a puddle mistakes my truck for a pair of waterskis, and i begin to hydroplane…which sounds a lot cooler than it is. as i think to myself, “don’t oversteer, don’t slam on the brakes” i notice out of the corner of my eye, the gaurdrail located in the median is laughing at me. i decide to show it who’s boss, and we get into a short fight. the gaurdrail won. much thanks to my sister, driving three hours from alabama to pick me up, we both ventured the other three hours to atlanta, leaving my truck in a salvage yard to be dealt with at a later, and dryer time. i manage to get everything out of my truck except for the tool box mounted in the truck bed, and my ever so beloved stick shift skull, steve. it was hard leaving him behind, reminding me of when my children would die in oregon trail. worse was knowing that i couldn’t drown my sorrows in a good round of rabbit hunting.

May 18th: i found out i have rental reimbursement on my insurance…and thusly i get a rental car. i can now work while i wait to hear about the fate of my truck. i am told i can use up to 30 dollars a day and a total of 900 dollars.

May 20th: learning of an airsoft game in daytona florida on the 5 of june, i decide the best plan of action, if the truck is in fact totaled, to drive down with my roommate on the 4th, pick up my fiancee’s old car, and then play airsoft on the 5th, heading back up to atlanta on the 6th, and all would be well. happiness ensues.

May 21st: i get a call from my insurance company, letting me know that the car is in fact totalled, and they’ll get the settlement numbers out to me asap, most likely on monday. with this news, we decide that going down on the 4th is a good plan. all is well.

May 24th: insurance updates me, settlement is, well, settled, and i am then informed that i only have three days left on my rental reimbursement. so that means i’ll have no car after the 27th, and that i can’t work after that. fun. i call about 5 different insurance people, who all use the same tactic of “tell him no until he gives up.” i give up. so now i’m stuck with no car, no money from my insurance company (yet), and no way to get down to florida to get my fiancee’s old car.

May 25th: after explaining my situation to many rental car agencies, i get several estimates for renting a car and leaving it in florida.

May 26th: i decide the rental car idea is a good one, and call hertz, who quoted me the lowest price. after verbally filling out forms for a nice long time, i discover that the guy from yesterday failed to explain that hertz doesn’t rent to people under 25. yay. i call back all the other places i called the day before…same deal. i start to look up plane fares…but at this short of notice, they’re all in the 200 dollar range. it finally comes down to a greyhound bus.

may 27th. plans are set. but then issues come up about having a tag for the car. can’t get a tag till after memorial day, can’t work until i get the car…it’s decided that coming to florida on the bus that i can’t get a refund of is the best idea…and i’ll just wait in florida until tuesday comes.

May 28th: i stay up all night to ensure that i’ll sleep as much as possible on the bus. i take an hour long nap. i wake up at 5:30am with an instant feeling of nausea. i manage to get one cheddar and peanutbutter cracker down. arriving at the greyhound station, after getting lost, i realize it’s much like an airport…only tiny, and dirty. i wait for my bus for an hour, head in hands, praying to God for relief from my horrible nausea. the bus ride is very long, and i am sick the whole way. ten hours of bus and sick. lots of fun. i transfer buses in some small town, and the bus driver gets lost. i arrive an hour and a half late, and i wait almost another hour because my ride was being haggled by a salesman.

May 29th-31st: if i don’t eat, i get sick. if i eat…i get sick. this is pretty much the game throughout the weekend. i spend some time with my best man, seeing kill bill vol 2 again, (just as awesome the second time around…odd how i was sick the first time i saw it too) and thank God that as i hang out at my best man’s house and watch the lightning game, i eat hungry howie’s pizza and don’t feel sick.

June 1st: i am amazed at how quickly we get through both the tax collector’s office for the tag and title, and the circuit court for our marraige license (little side trip). but i’m so scared of having another sick day, i worry myself sick. we take my new (to me) car to tire kingdom to check on a funny looking tire. they say “two hours” i wanted to leave town my 9:30 am. i make a comment about not getting out of town till 11. my fiancee says it’ll be fine and i’ll be out before then. we wait at her house…i’m sick…and tired. i nap. we get a phone call, car’s done in 30 minutes. hooray. we arrive at tire kingdom. they don’t know who called, but the car hasn’t even moved yet, and they send us back up. 11 o’clock passes. I make another comment, this time saying 4 o’clock. we get another car, the car is done…for real this time. two new tires, alignment, and 220 dollars later, and i’m ready to hit the road…sorta. gotta get some safety pins to pin up the sagging roof cloth so it doesn’t drive me nuts touching my head the whole trip back. by the time everything is ready to go, it’s 3:45. i believe i am a prophet, until i cannot manage to part my pepto bismal like moses did the red sea. I drive off, make it down the road, only to get a call from my fiancee telling me she forgot to show me how to check the water levels in the car. i turn around, and we figure it out, i’m on the road again. i discover that the AC does not work, and at a rest stop i break the belt buckle cover. as i travel onward, through the area i crashed my truck it, it rains slightly, as if to mock me. i turn on the windshield wipers, and i watch as a drop distored view becomes a streak distorted view and notice that the wipers are half desintegrated. mind you, i’m sick through all this too…hungry…but nauseous.

and that brings us ’round about to now. i didn’t get home till around midnight. and now i’ve spent an hour writing this, and it’s so long, no one will read it. well, that’s not true. i’m sure teresa will read it, and leave a comment about some innacurate date or something. cause she hates me. but that’s my story…long, annoying, and i have to say i left out about 15 little annoying detauils that just made the pile seem bigger and bigger. i don’t have the accuracy of memory to properly recount just how daunting this past week has been…but i do believ this is the part where i would wear sack cloth, put dirt on my head, a mourn publicly. but in the weirdest way, i’m very much at peace with God. during all these events, as frustrating as it all was…i knew it was for some reason (yet to be revealed) and i knew that in the end things would end up better. i did get to spend some nice time with my best man, and i certainly appreciate seeing my fiancee again. so while i do complain alot…i know that i’m blessed with far better things than well working cars and good luck.

an ominous message

the picture above is the cryptic message i came home to yesterday. it seems the pest control man has been in my apartment. instead of leaving the common “someone’s been in your house” signals like, drawers pulled out, papers strewn about, he has the audacity to leave a note. almost like the cat burglars calling card, but with far less class than a long stem rose or some sort of tiny crystal animal statue. the thing that truly strikes fear in my heart is his future plans. it’s obvious that he plans to come back. You can see this in the “……” instead of a period. it’s almost as if he’s staring me in the eye, and without blinking he says to me, “your move, mr. bullard.” for now all i can do is sit in my apartment and await hsi next venture into my humble abode. that, and set up paint cans on ropes triggered by the door opening.
i refuse to believe it’s only 1:12. You’d think if you tried to sleep through the day, you’d have little of it left…but alas i am stuck with hours to kill. i could play halo, but i don’t want to. it’s supposed to be this great game, but i’ve yet to see what about it really impresses people. the only thing that is keeping me going is the fact that other people say it’s good. sort of an entertainment peer pressure. at each new chapter i say to myself, “maybe this one will have less of those annoying, whiney aliens.” and then it has more of them. and as much as i don’t want to play it…i’m going to end up playing it anyway. ladies and gentelmen, the trials and tribulations of my life.

kernels of deception

popcorn has got to be the most disappointing food there is. i like popcorn and all, but it’s really just one big culinary letdown. whenever anyone makes popcorn, anyone within a 100 foot radius knows it. popcorn is a very fragrant food. herein lies the problem. popcorn smells wonderful. the buttery aroma fills the air and creates little daydreams of fluffy golden kernels dancing on your taste buds. and there’s no avoiding it. it fills my apartment like clouds of warm buttery goodness. so what comes of this? you desire the popcorn, and you steal a handful from your roommate. and then the letdown. the popcorn tastes good, but it doesn’t taste like it smells. it’s buttery, a little sweet (kettel corn anyways) but it just doesn’t have that same wondrous buttery softness that the smell has. so you try and eat more, thinking you can condense the flavor, and possibly attain for your tongue the same plane of wonder that your nose is enjoying. your nose almost resents your tongue as if it’s not working hard enough to enjoy all this. and then you get done to left over seeds and greasy bowl bottom…the dream is never fulfilled. so you put the bowl in the dishwasher and attempt to forget this tragedy of clashing senses, but, as if to mock you, the wondrous smell of popcorn still lingers throughout your apartment. you hate the popcorn in your heart, but your nose tells you that next time will be better…it’s got to…it’s the tongue’s fault. so, in a sort of temporary insanity, you cook your own bowl popcorn, and it all starts over again. and this my friends, is how you go through a whole box of popcorn in a day.