Crazy bug-hater

I walked in to the living room last night after putting the kids to bed, and saw a large semi-dead tree roach in the middle of the floor. Like the completely mature adult that I am, I left it there, hoping it would be more dead in the morning...and also hoping that Sweet Hubby would be home before the kids freaked out too much about it.

When we got up this morning, it was still there. I assumed (wrongly) that it was 100% dead, seeing as how it was still in the same place and position in the living room. (I should probably state here my disgust for just about everything with six legs...add wings to those six legs, and I'm done, acting like a complete fool if it comes anywhere within 20 feet of me--or looks like it might think about coming anywhere within 20 feet of me....and this is a trait I've passed on to my children). After the kids and I stared at it for a while (still assuming it's deadness), Stephen bravely volunteered to pick it up. There was no argument from me as I threw the paper towel at him. He wadded the paper towel, picked it up and headed for the kitchen trash.

And then. It moved.

At which point Stephen threw the paper towel and the roach 5 feet in the air, Zachary and I squealed, leaped out of our skins and landed on the couch. The kids were pretty freaked out, I however, was laughing hysterically. Stephen, in desperate attempts to convince me that I should be the one to pick it up, started telling me that I was the grown-up and all I had to do was pick it up and run to the trash and why don't we get a shoe to kill it first and we could make Zachary do it or maybe Marc-Adam would do it and we had to eat breakfast soon and he wasn't going to eat breakfast with that thing sitting next to the table...and on and on and on. In a completely shameful moment of desperation, I asked Marc-Adam if he wanted to smack the bug with a shoe, to which he replied, "Ew."

The poor bug was actually still moving, twitching it's legs *shudder* and spinning in buggy circles on it's back. I decided it was time to take some action, because seriously, I was hungry and no way was I eating breakfast with the bug looking at me. So, again like the completely mature adult that I am, I retrieved the paper towel, threw it over the bug and pushed the bug and paper towel over to the trash can with a broom. I added in a smack for good measure and that's when the bug came out from underneath paper towel (consequently, it was also when I needed a change of clothes). It wriggled and squirmed in it's feeble attempts to rescue itself from the crazy lady, but eventually flipped back to it's back and spun in a few more buggy circles.

And ladies and gentleman, that's where it still sits as I type this. Sweet Hubby won't be home for another hour or so, but I'm content with the bug's location at this time. I don't have to look at it or think about it (despite the children telling me repeatedly that all I have to do is pick it up and put it the trash).