Sunday, April 10, 2016

Saturday Night

You're lying there on the couch in the dark, with a couple of candles burning, watching "The Dead Files" and getting creeped out psychologically, but simultaneously grateful for a confirmation that there might be other entities out there...

And then, out of the corner of your eye, a huge cockroach crawls up the water-glass sitting on your coffee-table. You don't quite believe it at first. Nothing is actually that creepy.

For the next 15 minutes: Fuck the TV spirits and contemplation of the meaning of life. Sole focus is on killing the cockroach. It fucking won't die. I spray it on my water-glass, I spray it on the table, I spray it on the carpet it runs to, I spray it in the pile of CDs on the floor... When it finally runs onto hardwood, still not dead via roach spray, I'm finally able to squash it with the heel of a newly bought shoe.

Whew! The momentary FOCUS.

And then the angst of the cleaning up of the roach and roach spray afterward. The glass, the table, the carpet spots, the various CDs, the floor. And the remaining horror --- What caused the thing to come in to your apartment in the first place? The place is clean, no dirty dishes, et al....


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