flushed away

The only thing I really dislike about my new place is the bathtub. It’s not very long, and it’s pretty narrow, so it makes it hard to achieve full bathing nirvana. But I was in the mood for a hot bubble bath last night, so I filled the tub and happily slid into the water.

Ahhhh.

After a few minutes, it was starting to get pretty steamy in there, so I stood up and opened the bathroom window. It overlooks the parking lot, but I’m on the second floor, so I wasn’t too worried about anyone catching a glimpse of my jubblies.

I soaked for about fifteen minutes, and then I rinsed off and got out of the tub. I dried off, put on my jammies, and retreated to the living room to watch CSI. During a commercial break, I reluctantly heaved my lazy carcass off the couch to take a whiz.

As I was sitting on the toilet, I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to see the biggest silverfish I’ve ever seen in my life. Motherfucker was colossal! I know they’re harmless, and I leave insects alone when they’re out in the wild, but once they cross my threshold, I consider them trespassers.

Sentence: death.

One of the first presents G ever gave me was a bug wand. It’s a long plastic tube with a motor in the handle, and you position the tube over the insect, push a button, and the bug is sucked into the tube. Then you put the cover on and take the insect outside to set it free, if you’re a pacifist, or to the bathroom for prompt dispatching. It's a much better method than squashing bugs with a magazine (too messy) or picking them up with a Kleenex (risk of direct contact).

I stood up, wiped, yanked my pajama pants back up, and raced to the hall closet to grab the bug wand. I returned to the bathroom, caught the silverfish, and dumped it into the toilet.

“DROWN IN MY PISS, BITCH!” I screamed triumphantly, flushing the toilet.

Then, to my horror, I heard a burst of raucous laughter outside and someone yelled, “Damn, lady!”

Twelve hours later and I’m still blushing.