An Unwelcome Visitor in Chez Seamore

So, last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt something gently tickling my face. I ignored it, thinking it was a stray thread from my blanket or pillow. Ten seconds later, I felt it again. This time I sat up and turned on the light, adrenaline starting to pump through me as I scoured the sheet and floor for the source of the tickling. I couldn't see anything, but knew I hadn't imagined it, so broadened my search. Still in bed, I lifted my pillow and saw something that looked a lot like the fake ones that my sisters took such delight in tucking into our luggage our last trip to Siesta Key. It looked like this.

This guy was the real deal, though, not a fake rubber one, and he moved with the speed of light. I don't know if roaches have ears, but if they do, this one was probably deafened by my scream. He scurried as soon as I lifted the pillow, and ran along the floor underneath our bed, near the head of it. He was big enough that even Mr. B., who is pretty much legally blind without his contacts, could see it. I scrambled off the bed and headed down the hallway to grab the can of insect spray the previous owners kindly left behind for us (it's hornet spray, but I figured it would work on roaches, too). In the meantime, the roach completely vanished. We couldn't see him anywhere. Five minutes passed, my heart beating so loudly that I was afraid the neighbors might wonder if we were hammering something or beating on drums. Mr. B. suggested throwing in the towel and going back to bed. AS IF. "No effing way!" I said, looking wildly around the room for Mr. Roach. 

Finally, I screwed up my courage, turned on the flashlight, crouched down and shined it under the bed. And there he was, resting quietly, contemplating his next move. I sprayed that hornet spray at it like a fireman spraying water on a 10 alarm fire. He scrambled to get out of the line of spray and ran right into Mr. B.'s waiting Kleenex, where he was squashed like, well, like a bug. Mr. B. is my hero. 

About an hour later the adrenaline finally stopped coursing through my veins and my heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. I finally fell asleep, and though I didn't dream about the bug, I thought about it every time I woke up. And every time I felt even the slightest itch on my head or face, I jerked. Today we gave the trailer and our bedding a thorough cleaning (it's a trailer when a cockroach wanders in; it will take a while for me to think of it as a cottage again). I didn't see any signs of any other cockroaches, and that was the first one we've seen here. The neighbors behind us are having some construction work done that involved digging up their lawn, which is right next to our fence, and Mr. B.'s theory is that the digging unearthed the cockroach, who might have landed on the clothes I had hanging on the line yesterday. He thinks maybe it hitchhiked on the clothes when I brought them in. Since I was the one who folded them, the thought of a cockroach scrambling through my clothes is enough to give me the willies, never mind the memory of it crawling on my face last night.  I wonder how long it will take me to fall asleep tonight, AFTER I check under the bed and under my pillow, and throw back the covers to make sure nothing is lurking in the bed. I know the memory of that cockroach crawling on my face will be with me forever. 

Anyone want to come for a visit? :D