A crisis

I am no stranger to crisis. I am a stranger, however, to personal crisis. But, when I have a call that bothers me, for example, I recite the mantra that I am having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation and I deal with it. (yay for CISM, lol)
I have been dealing with what I believe I can safely call a big personal crisis over the last few weeks. This, unfortunately magnifies anything else smaller going on in my life. Tonight, something very physically small indeed.

I went to get a coke to get me through my marathon reading of Harry Potter, and discovered what I believed to be the largest roach I had ever seen. Even in my Baltimore City days, I saw roaches more in large volumes, but never one this size. I, of course, scared it and watched in horror as it ran under the refrigerator.
I was immediately in crisis mode. First, I ran to the bedroom to get the sturdiest shoes I could find, and rolled up my pant legs. Then I fished my Maglight out of my camping gear. Whether I wanted to illuminate the situation with it, or beat the roach into the floor with it, I was undecided. Tentatively, I shined the light under the fridge, revealing nothing. Then the oven, again fruitlessly. I then weaved a tapestry of profanity that will be hanging over my street for years to come.
I went to old reliable google and found a great picture of it. Yep, it was looking more and more like a roach. So, I called my mom. She suggested roach spray, obviously, so I marched up to the grocery store which is a short walk from my house. On the way there, I found myself muttering insane ramblings to myself, and generally looking crazy. I realized that I was absolutely furious with this creature. Its only crime, existence.
I found some spray, and carried it back in the grocery bag as if it were a bag of nickels, and I was ready to thrash somebody with it if the need arose. I thought about that movie where the girl gets a bug in her ear and goes insane. Maybe that had already happened. That could explain why I couldn’t stop mumbling to myself about killing bugs.
I got up to my apartment and open the door, and there was an ant. An ant! I pulled out my spray, and even if the spray didn’t kill it, the drowning would. I then set my sights on the kitchen. I sprayed the hell out of under the fridge and surrounding area. I felt like it was salt to ward off witches and if I just made a proper perimeter, I would be safe.
After becoming intoxicated in spray fumes, my dad called me and offered to come over to check it out. Thank God he did. He arrived, armed with a broom and a yard stick, bless him. He thoroughly investigated under the appliances, and even pulled out the refrigerator. A very fruitful action, as after he sprayed the crap out of behind the fridge, the little guy ran out and tried to escape. I flew into full on girl mode and yelled, “There it is!! Kill it!!” This, from a person who is usually as passive as a Quaker. I'm not sure what stopped me from grabbing the broom and leaping onto the nearest chair. Thankfully, my father threw down his enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside...or the kitchen floor.

I have convinced myself for now that this was an isolated incident and we will never speak of it again.

Crisis averted.

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