Cockroach Killer Extoardinaire

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A bug was harmed in the making of this post. Just not this one since it was outside in the safe zone

I’ve never had to deal with cockroaches before, count me lucky, or sheltered, but I know what they look like. My friend has that as one of her big fears, cockroaches she told me can fly, Sarah, seriously! This friend of mine also recently discovered that she has an intense fear of sink holes, which she just recently discovered and she said they can follow you and happen anywhere.

I am a bug person since the age of three I’ve had memories of grabbing ants (even fire ants, ouch) and putting them in my clear plastic purse. Crickets, grasshoppers, moths, caterpillars, rollie pollie bugs, about every bug you can think of I’d collect. As I’ve gotten older I still have an appreciation of all things creepy and crawly, yet, I’ve changed since I was a little girl. If a bug is invading my home I will most likely kill that bug with a vengeance, they will get especially annihilated if I caught them in my bed.

There is no love for bugs if they are found creeping around my home, though they can only wish that I have compassion the day I find them and I might try to let them outside. If they get caught in our home again I doubt I can find it in my bug loving heart not to crush them to pieces. My husband does not have my killer instincts and so we have taken on opposite roles to say the least. So, when my husband and I went to visit our little pet and he nearly fell over I thought he had hurt himself, which was not quite so.

He saw a cockroach, jumped onto the coach like a girl, and told me to take care of it. That bugger was huge, so I did the logical thing.

Me: “I’m going to get my killing boots, be right back.”
Husband: “Don’t leave me with it, come back here!”

I headed over to my closet on the opposite side of the apartment and searched for the perfect killing boots. I couldn’t find my favorite pair so I went with a high top type of boot after five minutes of searching, pulled up my pajama bottoms, and stomped on over. My husband was on the couch cowering, asking me why I’d left him for so long, he wouldn’t stop hiding on the couch. The cockroach was, of course, hiding as well.

I wasn’t going to be done until I killed it, so I searched around and was able to rush it out but I missed killing it and it darted under our couch.

Me: “We need to move the couch, it’s hiding, get up and help me move it.”
Husband: “What if it attacks me?! I don’t want it to attack me!”

It took quite a bit of convincing but he did move the couch and lo and behold… The cockroach was someplace else. I was on the hunt so I flipped over a pillow and found it, and went into killing mode. I may or may not have sworn while I was stomping it to death and did more than a double tap, more like a twenty tap to make sure it was dead. You gotta remember cockroaches can survive anything, and they are probably like zombies, you gotta make sure that head is off to really kill them.

We then volleyed back and forth who would throw away the dead bug, but I did the killing, so he can take care of the cleanup. My husband then informed if there was a zombie apocalypse that he would be able to handle it. I highly doubt that and know I would just need my killing boots to be able to take on some zombies.

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The Tree is up! It is decked out in Vegas lights.

As you may all know, and are very much aware, my fiancée just loves Christmas. It is his time of year, his birthday follows around the corner, but he isn’t as unlucky as my poor brother who has it right during the month of Christmas so he generally gets everything lumped together that is called ‘Christmas’ and is told, “Oh… yeah, the Christmas wrap… that’s for your Birthday too!”  Though, ever since I have gotten a job, whether it has been decent paying, or like my first one, minimum wage, I have spoiled my brother in both categories.

My fiancée is all about the tree. Not the crappy attempt at wrapped presents that I made underneath the tree, not even the ornaments which are pretty and all ‘fancy ornaments’, the ones he likes. No, he likes the Vegas showgirl lights on the tree.

And that he can read his book from the lights on the tree.

While, you know, me, I’d just like the tree to have a few sets but otherwise not go too crazy on it. We were part way into the whole lights thing, and I didn’t even know this, so he asked me how the tree looked. I said, well, dear, I think that it has more than enough lights. To which he gave me a shocked, horrified expression, as if I stepped on a puppy Santa had given me himself, and told me, “We are putting more lights up, I just wanted to know where on the tree it was still dark where it needed to be covered.”

Never mess with a man who is obsessed with lights, we put on like three more strings after that.

It feels nice to have the tree up, and I’m personally more impressed with the spread of presents I have underneath it. There is stuff for my brother (of course, I am like Santa Claus with how much I get him), stuff for my fiancée, and stuff for my co-workers. I know what you may be thinking… Presents for your co-workers? I can’t stand working with the people I work with! I mean, I’m barely able to stand them at work and I try my best to ignore them but they are like the worst! Well, I do love my co-workers quite a bit, especially my little estheticians who spend the most time with me back in the Spa, crack me up, and are part of the reason I have so much fun back there.

Getting gifts for my co-workers is one of my most favorite parts about Christmas. I can be totally creative with them, I can get them whatever I want, yet I know their tastes and what they do/don’t like, and I don’t have to call them up to make sure. My family can be so difficult with what I get them, and my brother is a party pooper with most of his gifts being gift cards.

Even if this year will be the last Christmas with my girls from work because the man’s job will move, I’ve decided this doesn’t mean I can’t spoil them. If I have to move, which it’s looking a lot like I will, I’m going to do everything I want to do for them with no regrets. My spa girls mean a lot to me, they’ve been a sounding board the few times I feel like talking about my life, and they’ve been my help when I’ve been behind. I’ve even gotten gifts for a hair stylist I enjoy talking to, and a nail technician I’ve known since I’ve started working at my work. All of them I’d call my friends, so as a friend of Sarah’s, they get to be spoiled by me.

The Difficult Decision Delayed

The man has been all worked up about the decision that may have to be made about his work and us moving. We’ve known for a while that it is possible, but having him have the interview makes it a lot more real for us. So, he is mainly worried about me and how I’m going to live without my family being nearby.

As much as I complain about them, and as much as they drive me crazy sometimes, I do love my family, depending on the day. They are like my support system, and even though my mother has all the secrets to driving me crazy, and pushes it sometimes (all the time) I still look to her for advice.

I’ve never lived without my family being close to me, physically. The man is afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it.

I know it’s better for me to reassure him that I can, and I try to do this, yet the truth is I don’t know how I’d deal with it. And, as much as my work can be tough on me, or I get overbooked, or whatever the problem, I still love working there. Looking for another job, just the idea of it, is a huge, huge stress. I have a rather difficult personality that either people get me, or they don’t. And if they don’t, I’m not willing to change who I am to make them deal with me better. I’m a rather goofy, fun-loving person, who is both determined, and passionate, about what she does for a career.

Even when he does get the interview who knows when they will contact him about it. He’s trying so hard, working on his off time, always worrying about his work and even on our vacation to Arizona he was still working. He tries to be there 24/7 for his job, yet it’s so much work that he’s behind. The man is leaving again for another business trip, and at the end of it he’ll be doing the interview. We just gotta be strong through all of these trials and changes and rely on each other.

If we had to move I’d try my best to make it work. It’s just not going to be easy in the least and I’d need to have a job first before I moved. Then, I’d maybe try to do some volunteer work on the side to keep me busy and maybe help me not miss my family as much.

Drinking for me and myself

I went out drinking tonight, met up with a bunch of girls, but I just realized even more that I am not a group person. I am a 1-on-1 person. Especially when you go out drinking and there comes these people who you’ve met like once or twice and they have all of these inside ‘jokes’ they talk about so you never seem to be a part of the conversation. You are on the fringe, looking in, an outsider, so you keep on drinking to hopefully find anything funny. And, to find their babble about blah, blah, somewhat interesting. Or, drink your way to get through it.

I needed to drink. There’s been so much stress with me, and mainly the man who I’ve been so worked up without anyone knowing. His job has been a mess, and he has an interview within his job that would have him move if he got it.

Which, at least he got an interview. With his job here they still haven’t so we don’t know what’s going on and he got an interview for within his job but it would have him move and it’s going to be for the next week. So, he is all worked up and I have to be supportive and strong because he is scared and nervous, plus anxious, and I’m trying my best to help him through it. I’ve missed him a lot and the only people who know that he’s gone is my mom and my brother.

It’s just that it’s been like a year and a half or so of not knowing. And, now, it feels like things are coming down to the wire…. maybe.

The get together wasn’t awful, but it just wasn’t as much fun as I have with just one of the gals when I take them out for their birthday or we just go just the two of us. And, lots of people out tonight were playing with their phones and the conversations were going everywhere, but basically I couldn’t follow them, and it was all about just enjoying the drinking as best as I could. And, I made sure I didn’t have too much, yet just enough.

Hormones are a dangerous thing

Hormones make you want to crawl into a hole...

I have the cutest, sweetest, client who comes to see me and she used to see me more often but their financial fund kind of dried up. She’s just one of those people who you meet and you’re kind of like “You can’t be for real… I never knew someone like you could exist!” Just as sweet as marshmallow fluff,  and so we’ve gotten to know a little about each other over time. She’s one of those few clients I discuss a little of my life with her, and she does the same with me. The last time I was really concerned about her because she came in my room and started crying, and it truly did kind of break my heart.

When she told me why, it really broke and then tore my heart still beating onto the ground.

She and her husband are trying to have a baby. But, unfortunately, it’s not as easy as it is sounds. She has the same thing that I have: Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I was diagnosed with it just when I was a teenager, I’ve been on birth control pills ever since. It’s where there are a ring of cysts encircling the ovaries. When they found out about it I had a cyst the size of my ovary, or bigger, that I continued to have for 2 years. Being put on birth control pills was rough, I went through different brands that made me physically sick and the patch which made me want to scratch my skin off and like it was burning my skin at the same time. I’ve gone off birth control (of course, before dating anyone) with no success. I can’t be regulated without it, I’ve tried and failed.

My client tried to get pregnant the natural way, but had to resort to hormone injections. And, they were just making it too much for her to handle that day. It makes you feel pregnant with all of the side effects and just really is like, what I would think, being dosed with steroids.

I want her to get pregnant so badly. I know she wants it so terribly, and I find it so heartbreaking. She’s only a client of mine, but since the last time I saw her I was worrying about her. She was so funny when she came in, she said she was craving Mexican food and Mexican music. She told me she thought maybe, possibly, she might just be pregnant. And I want her to be. I wish I could make it happen because you can see it in her face, and even feel it in her body she has been working so hard to make this work. My client would be such a wonderful mother since she is so sweet, and I could see her spoiling her little boy/girl like crazy.

My client even asked me, since she was really thinking maybe, possibly, she might be pregnant if the massage might hurt it. If I was early in my career I would scared to do it, because I don’t want to do anything to mess it up. But, massage can be done in any period of the pregnancy, and I’ve had tons of experience doing it from the first, second, and third trimester. We talked about her family this time, and her husband’s family, who she loves, is going to drive up from god knows where to get bring her craving for Mexican food home to her.

It’s such a fine line to tread… I want to ask her if she is pregnant the next time I see her, but I will be so heartbroken again if it’s not true. I’m going to let her take the initiative, she knows I’m so rooting for her. If she comes back and says she’s pregnant, I don’t care if I’m in a Spa, I am going to leap for joy, make a ruckus, and I’m hugging her. It would definitely make my day to find that out! I feel like she’s meant to be a mother, and she’d make a wonderful one.

That isn’t so sexy… how about something else?

I am more than an advocate for my honey always telling me how pretty, and how sexy I am even in my worst of times. But, even he has his moments where I want to shake him. I was walking around in my comfortable P.J.s and he asked me where my other ones were. I thought I knew where they were, but didn’t know why he was asking me.

“Because those ones are sexier…” 

To which he had me stomping around trying to find the ‘sexy’ ones so that I didn’t look like I was in a sack. Of course, I know what he means, but still. If you like sexier PJs then get them for me, if not, I will wear my comfortable stuff especially after work. I then changed into something, and grabbed a different top, and he told me he’d like the first thing I’d wear instead of what I was holding.

I swear, seriously? I cooled down later, of course, but was huffing for a bit after that.

No End

There is no end to the messed up relationship between my mom and dad. Like I knew, she will not break away from him. She will continue to have the verbal, mental, and emotional abuse every day, and hide from him and try to avoid the situation. We were talking tonight, and I knew the truth. That she would stick it through, deal with it as it increases and gets worse, but I can’t. I can’t keep up this life. I can’t involve myself forever in protecting her from what might happen with him, in protecting her from the abuse, in staying with her so she’s not alone. Because I know how alone she is with him, and how much we’re the same. I feel guilty when I’m not there with her, even more when they have a confrontation and he flips out and goes crazy.

I can’t keep on living here solely because of my mom. Because I love her and I want to be there for her, and because of the reason I want to protect her. I have a man I love, and he loves me, and I know I want to be with him. And, there’s a part of me which is scared, which is terrified, which tells me that I can’t trust men.

I can’t, not after what I’ve had happen to me. That love is something I’ve never witnessed, especially between my mother and father. Maybe I just don’t know what it is?

But, then I’m with him, and he looks at me and there are just times where everything seems to light up just by his smile. And I know my heart fills up, and when I’m held by him the worries seem to melt away, the problems, issues, even if it’s for that moment where he’s holding me close to him and I’m just allowing myself to relax. To close my eyes. To savor the feeling of giving in. Because I never let myself give in, I have to be strong all the time, never show that weakness, but I can trust him to see my weakness.

Which is something else, something that’s hard, because I want to lock myself up and not have anyone see it.

I don’t want to give in completely, I know my perception of marriage is screwed up, but there are people who make it work. Who love each other and can spend time separate from each other, alone time, or time together and love and miss each other as much as ever. I don’t want to live this life of resentment, pain, sadness, and overwhelming anger. I am so angry at my father, so done with him and my relationship with him. I’m tired of hiding with my mom, locking myself away until I hear him go to sleep.  Me and her staying out until we’re sure he is asleep and not up.

I don’t think I’m an easy person to live with. I’m stubborn, I like things my way, I’m fiercely independent, and will more than fully admit that I have trust issues up the ying yang. I don’t let people in. Ever. I like to be alone, I have always been alone besides my mom and brother. I didn’t want to let the man in, or get into a relationship, but somehow he knocked down those walls. And that is not an easy thing to do. I think I can trust him to have me.

Organized to a fault?

Yes, I’ve been a little MIA lately, I’m getting ready for a trip with the man which is coming up next week. So, you won’t be hearing from me even longer since I won’t have my handy dandy lap top with me and no connection to the internet besides his phone with internet access.

I am extremely organized. I put every thing little thing down in my life in a notebook that is handwritten or the notebook option with my lap top. I write down every single cent of what I’ve bought with both cash and credit. I write down my bills from month to month too, even if each month is basically the same thing. So, when do you get over-organized? When is organized just plain you going off the deep end and borderline O.C.D? I sometimes can’t stop thinking about something until I write it down so I remember it, and when I am able to do that it’s like finally getting to an itch I couldn’t scratch.

I like to write stuff down on Post-It notes… for myself. I recently went through some boxes of mine and wrote down exactly what was in them in a post-it note. The man also can be extremely organized, and two organized people joining together can sometimes bring some conflict. He likes things done the way he likes them to be done, I like things done my way or the highway. This follows me into work too, though I try not to let my stubborn/bull-headed ways rear its head with what I do. I like to do something that is my idea, that I came up with, and if someone suggests for me to do it and it’s not my idea I do put my heels in a little compared to being gung-ho if it’s what I came up with.

I do stuff without being asked to do them, I like being this way. I send off bills the day of when I get them, I like to have someone ask me to do something and have it already done. Of course, I prefer above all else just being busy. One massage after another so I’m doing what I love and I can’t be asked to do mundane little tasks cause’ I’m locked up in my room with my client and they can’t get to me.

My Mom is doing better, and I recently went to the doctor for a check-up appointment. They couldn’t find anything else wrong with her besides the beginning stages of cataracts that they’re just keep an eye on. The man is good, work hasn’t killed me, and I got a new nifty phone that is shiny and pretty. I can’t wait for my trip with him and have a little black dress picked out for the wedding as well as some cute cleavage revealing clothes for everyday wear.

Nobody’s Perfect

So, me and the man were talking on the phone and I came to this shocking, startling realization. I was talking about how she wanted to do something, and I wouldn’t let her, and so we had a fight and stopped talking for 20 minutes. And, how if my mom doesn’t have her way she huffs, pouts, and tries to get you to do what she wants. I was saying how I don’t do stuff like that, but the man said I was more like my mom than I realized.

I do know that, but I’d rather have her good qualities than her hissy fit qualities.

And he talked about a time where I didn’t want to drive and I told him that I didn’t want to do it. I was tired, I really wanted to change my clothes, I had a crazy day at work and I was super tired, and I basically wanted to go back to the place and just pass out. I ended up driving him to where he needed to go to pick up the car, but I was super stressed out doing it and not happy.

I hate driving my car, it’s just a thing that I’d much rather not drive if I can and I go for short trips. I don’t like having things moved around, I like them to be in a certain way and he loves to change a room around pretty consistently… which drives me crazy. There are things that are just a part of who I am, my quirks, my little imperfections. I hate trusting people, I like to keep track of my money down to the penny, I like long stretches of time where I’m left alone on my lap top and I just can play around on the web. I like to have water bottles sit out after they’ve been in the frig so they aren’t as cold when I drink them.

But, I began to think to myself, can he stand these weird quirks about me? So, I got quiet on the phone, and ended up lapsing into a silence. Which, I’m sure he’s learned is when I’m thinking about things. The man is incredibly honest, which is one of his best qualities, and can sometimes be tough to swallow. I like to think I’m perfection, I hold myself to higher standards now than I ever did before. Like he said, I’d be pretty boring to be with if I was completely perfect. And he certainly isn’t perfect either, no one is.

You gotta take someone with their imperfections, and their good qualities too. When does a quirk become too much? Can you really change a quirk that is part of you if it annoys your partner to no end? I won’t do anything if it’s not my idea, I’m stubborn like that, like a bull-head. Yet, I don’t mind going with the flow with someone, doing something that was their idea unless if I really don’t want to do it. I’m a handful and a half and can be quite a wild person.

I don’t know how, but he caught me, the wild one who wanted nothing to do with a relationship. You definitely have to make it work with a relationship, and I don’t think you ever stop learning about that person you’re with.

No woman don’t cry

My Mom never cries. That’s how I got my whole tough exterior, gooey stuff interior from her. My Mom is one tough cookie, she is a scary bear mother defending her cubs if you dare to screw with them. But, deep down, she wants to give and she really, really wants people to like her. She’d put herself in her room, lock the door, and cry from there if she ever needed to. You’d never even know she did cry, unless you were like me, and knew her inside and out. Funny how the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and I tend to lock myself in my room when I need to cry, and I fight it for as long as I can before I break down.

Now I catch her crying at silly stuff . T.V. shows, movies (she cried with Toy Story 3, I told her she was a wuss), and other things. Me? I may feel the urge to cry but I squeeze the tears back into the tear ducts.

Crying is not acceptable. Weakness is not acceptable. Pain is not shown.

My poor Mom has been in terrible pain because of her hip. No one in the family even knows she has hip trouble, except for me. She was in pain for her shoulder which she dislocated when she was younger, no one really knows except me. Of course, if she went to the doctor on a routine basis and found out what’s going on with her, I’d feel better.

She hasn’t gone to the doctor in 15-20 years. She’s told me if there’s something wrong with her she’d rather not find out about it. My Mom just says if there is something wrong she’d like it to take her quickly so there isn’t any suffering. She hasn’t shown any pain, weakness, or tears. My Mom has told me she has to stay strong, she has to always be strong, and never fall apart, because the family depends on her. And so, here I am, following in her footsteps with that same philosophy, I need to be strong because people depend upon me. But, I don’t refuse to see the doctor, I wish she would take care of herself, but she never does. It’s always everyone else, and never her. I worry about my Mom so much, I don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

I’d be like a lost lamb, a lost little cub, wandering around without someone to follow. She really is my best friend, I couldn’t imagine her not being in my life… it’s not even possible for me to imagine. I call her the moment I wake up, the moment I get out of work, and tell her anything and everything. She’s my guidance, and this is about the only thing that can get me crying, is the mere thought of not having her be with me, to share all of my triumphs, my failures, and to be there with me through all of life’s little hiccups and road bumps.

I worry about my Mom with my Dad, and how mean and cruel he is from the moment she wakes up. How her life is terrible, but no one knows and she doesn’t want anyone to know either what she’s going through. I worry about my Mom and if she ever needs help, that she wouldn’t ask for it. I worry that there is something wrong, and if there is, she’d never know. And I can’t stand her stubbornness, that I ended up inheriting, that she won’t listen to me to take better care of herself. Not just for me, but for my brother too. Because we’re all we have left.

There’s only so much I can do, but I wish I could do more.