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Weekend chemical warrior
Sep. 25th, 2006 02:35 pmFriday was okay. Went out to visit some friends who I don't normally see except when I'm in Greece, so it'd been a year or so - though we've been meeting up fairly regularly now that we're in the same city.
Nice time, though their schedule is somewhat later than mine, and I ended up giving up about half past midnight and calling a cab to go home (the Athens Metro shuts down at midnight. What's up with that?). Got to the apartment, went to hang up my clothes in the closet.
And found two cockroaches, each bigger than my thumb, camped out on my second-best suit.
Emptied out the closet like *snap* that, throwing clothes all over to try and track down the roaches, but they kept scuttling around and finding hiding places, and after I had reorganized my clothes (by now it was about 1:30 am), they were too deep for me to get a good swing with my shoe. I finally closed the closet as firmly as I could, and retreated to my bed for a fitful night's sleep, interrupted by thunderstorms.
Saturday night, as I was trying to drift off, I heard something scuttling around in the closet. I opened it up, and saw one of the roaches scuttling around one of my dress shirts. Empty out the closet again, and this time I managed to catch the roach where I could get a clean shot with my shoe. *Pow*. Say goodnight, Gracie. And time to sleep.
Sunday, I consulted with family and got some roach spray that was supposed to be effective. Sprayed all the drains, blasted the closet, and hti just about everyplace, except the chest of drawers - I just plain forgot about it.
More fool me. This morning, I open up the chest of drawers to grab a pair of socks, and there's the other roach. Out comes the bug spray, probably saturating most of my ties. I know I hit the thing several times with direct shots, but it was still scrambling around when I had to go to work.
Yesterday, I was mentioning the battle with the roaches to my dad, with some dark musings on my part that if bug spray didn't work, I'd have to try artillery or tanks. He suggested starting a little lighter, with flamethrowers. That brought to mind something out of the Vorkosigan saga (Komarr, to be precise), with a squad of Barrayar's finest preparing to blast into a sewer pipe with plasma cannons.
Thinking of the Vorkosigan saga brought to mind a great quote from Diplomatic Immunity, on what would happen if those who despised the backwardness of a society simply left, rather than staying and trying to effect change. Unfortunately, the quote itself escapes my mind, and I can't reconstruct it elegantly enough to make Mad Miles' point.
Nice time, though their schedule is somewhat later than mine, and I ended up giving up about half past midnight and calling a cab to go home (the Athens Metro shuts down at midnight. What's up with that?). Got to the apartment, went to hang up my clothes in the closet.
And found two cockroaches, each bigger than my thumb, camped out on my second-best suit.
Emptied out the closet like *snap* that, throwing clothes all over to try and track down the roaches, but they kept scuttling around and finding hiding places, and after I had reorganized my clothes (by now it was about 1:30 am), they were too deep for me to get a good swing with my shoe. I finally closed the closet as firmly as I could, and retreated to my bed for a fitful night's sleep, interrupted by thunderstorms.
Saturday night, as I was trying to drift off, I heard something scuttling around in the closet. I opened it up, and saw one of the roaches scuttling around one of my dress shirts. Empty out the closet again, and this time I managed to catch the roach where I could get a clean shot with my shoe. *Pow*. Say goodnight, Gracie. And time to sleep.
Sunday, I consulted with family and got some roach spray that was supposed to be effective. Sprayed all the drains, blasted the closet, and hti just about everyplace, except the chest of drawers - I just plain forgot about it.
More fool me. This morning, I open up the chest of drawers to grab a pair of socks, and there's the other roach. Out comes the bug spray, probably saturating most of my ties. I know I hit the thing several times with direct shots, but it was still scrambling around when I had to go to work.
Yesterday, I was mentioning the battle with the roaches to my dad, with some dark musings on my part that if bug spray didn't work, I'd have to try artillery or tanks. He suggested starting a little lighter, with flamethrowers. That brought to mind something out of the Vorkosigan saga (Komarr, to be precise), with a squad of Barrayar's finest preparing to blast into a sewer pipe with plasma cannons.
Thinking of the Vorkosigan saga brought to mind a great quote from Diplomatic Immunity, on what would happen if those who despised the backwardness of a society simply left, rather than staying and trying to effect change. Unfortunately, the quote itself escapes my mind, and I can't reconstruct it elegantly enough to make Mad Miles' point.
