So, my downstairs neighbour, or as I like to call him, “Fuckhead”, managed to finally get discovered as the ongoing source of MY cockroach troubles.
It’s been 10 months I’ve been living with these fucking things, trying to eliminate them. Tomorrow, it’s D-Day! Fumigation!
I’ve been working a couple hours already today, having emptied all my cupboard and begun washing the dishes. By hand. Tonight I buy all my cleaning supplies and tarps to protect my clean dishes with.
It’s going to be a long night.
Tomorrow, bug-spray day. I’m out all day, doing the Social Thing, and a few other Significant Things.
Needless to say, I’ve been preoccupied this week. Oh, and not just by that. By about a million things — I’ve had a shitty week. My black leather jacket I LOVE was stolen. A bottomed out on a railroad track and whacked my muffler off, costing me $80 in labour to put it back together. A few other wee things.
But, still. Everything could’ve been worse. Leather jacket could’ve had my cellphone in the pocket. My muffler could’ve been destroyed with a massive hole rather than just bending the flange. Everything that’s happened was kind of Mindfuck-Lite. Kinda, “Wow, that sucks, but shit, that coulda been MUCH worse!”
Hopefully by Sunday I might be able to catch my breath and write a little. It’s been a weird couple of weeks. Some full moons really blow, you know. I’ve had a good-bad-weird week that’s not the end of the world but just one that makes a stiff drink worthwhile, y’know what I’m saying?
Come Sunday, though, I’m hoping that just psychologically knowing we’ve caulked the shit out of my kitchen to prevent bugs from returning might be a Happy New Day for me.
Because I really, really hate bugs.
But I really, really love my home.