Somehow, in the pursuit of adventure, I always seem to find myself face-to-face with some of the most frightening walks (and flights) of life. The buddhist in me understands and knows the value of all sentient beings, but nevertheless; I stand by the fact that a silence of Leeches and a hoard of cockroaches should. Not. Fly. Both already have the capability of living and surviving on the ground for millions of years, take for example fossilized Tyrannobdella and Blattoptera. So clearly a change in evolutionary wings and the ability to directionally jump onto ones head from the trees above is asking for a little too much.
Last month when I moved to Hawaii a week before Nahee, I refused to take a shower because there was a cockroach scurrying in our bathroom. Every time I would open the door and see it, I’d slam it shut and run back into bed and call her. She told me that if it happened again, I would just need to call her and she would take care of it.
Last night in the midst of cleaning our apartment, I literally stumbled upon the biggest cockroach I have ever seen. And by stumbling, I mean I heard a loud *CRACK* sound coming from under the heel of my slipper. It was so loud that I thought someone had thrown one of those gunpowder wrappers next to my foot. When I lifted my leg, there it was. A big red thing as long as my index finger. After a solid five minutes of screaming Bloody Mary I remembered that fortunate promise Nahee made to me so long ago. “if it ever happens again, just call me.”
And it did. So I did.