I sat at my desk, stretched my fingers to warm them up and pulled open my current WIP. The older four kids are tucked in bed and I had just laid my infant down in the crib. It was time to get some serious writing time in. I had a nice, tense battle scene to plow through—lots of action and drama to keep the muse engaged.
Finally I could flip on some up-beat, dramatic music (you know, the stuff that so does not put infants to sleep) and dive in. My fingers flew over those keys and I relished the sense of freedom of having both hands to type. A rare treat indeed.
Soon I was deep in the head and anguish of my heroes.
A low rustle made me pause and I stood to peer over my desk into the dinning room. Sometimes my two year old will sneak down and raid the kitchen. No one was there.
I launched back into my writing.
A little while longer I glanced up at the ceiling. A small dark form crept across the textured surface, heading my way. A 2.5 inch long cockroach.
Apparently it’s the season. A few days before my Husband had killed four of them in a three room area and the span of a two hour show. Earlier in that day I had killed two more.
But this time, my Husband was asleep and I was alone. It didn’t take much of an imagination to envisioning it falling or fluttering down on top of me. I got up and slowly backed away from my computer.
What to do. A can of spray sat in the kitchen, on the other side of the dining room. I could get a broom to knock it down, but my desk was a mass of papers and books, complete with hundreds of hiding places, maybe a thousand.
Still the critter advanced. I had the overhead light on and I tried exaggerated movements. I mean, aren’t they supposed to head away from that sort of stuff? Why did it always seem like the stupid things head right for the danger? It could have the entire kitchen area if it’d just leave me in peace! I just wanted to write.
Yet my computer sat abandoned on the battlefield, mid sentence and the courser blinked mockingly. Surely I wasn’t going to let a bug get the better of me. Surely not.
But I didn’t have any shoes on. I hate the crunch (cringe, ew) and it takes like half a can of spray to kill one, chasing and spraying for a solid 5 min flurry, leaving behind not only the buggy mess (assuming that I managed to kill it instead of the more likely event of losing it at or around my desk), but also bathing my desk and papers in poison… so not appealing.
I tried to will the thing to head back. I glared at it, studying it’s every movement, every hesitation. Like a deer caught in the road, it paused, veered aside, paused, headed back, circled around and crept closer.
Then it stilled, perched directly above my desk. Minutes ticked by. It shifted a little this way and that, but seemed content in its general perch.
My heart plummeted. Come on!
The muse was willing, but the flesh was definitely weak.
I swallowed and crept to the side of my computer. While constantly glancing up, I slid the little white arrow over the start button and sent my computer into blissful hibernation.
I plodded to the light switch, glared at the creepy invader clinging to the ceiling of the abandoned battleground, then flipped the switch and fled up stairs.
So hate cockroaches.
However, though I retreated, I keep a pen and stash of paper in the bathroom… I shall never be defeated!