Monday, February 13, 2012

Home Sweet..OH DEAR GOD!: First night in my new house.

It is not uncommon on the first night in a new home to find yourself sleeping on the floor. If you haven't ever experienced this, trust me. I move a lot. Sleeping on the floor is like a right of passage. This sort of indoor camping is a fun way to break in a new house. A pizza box, an air mattress and empty space you get to fill often are the only items in the house, heightening the excitement surrounding your new adventure.

I moved into a new place on Friday. It kinda happened like what I described above. Ok not at all. Rather I found myself rocking back and forth in the fetal position trying to block out the terror that surrounded me.

Go to you're happy place!


Immediately upon returning from the states I moved from my old room to a full blown house. I was, and am so excited about a space of my own. While living at my last place, I had been borrowing many of my things from the woman I was living with. Most notably a bed. Having just traveled for the past 2 days straight with a minimal number of hours of sleep, I was so tired I couldn't have cared less about a bed. Collapse was imminent, and the floor looked fine.

I enter the bathroom for the usual pre-bed routine, but as I turn on the light, the walls appear to move. New Yorkers totally know what's coming next. After letting out a shriek that I would rather not describe in detail, for the sake of what little pride I have left, I look up and refocus my eyes. I wasn't mistaken. There they were. At least a dozen cockroaches in a full out assault on my bathroom.

You see them?




How about now?

Sorry about that. But I didn't think words could do it justice.

After a pretty pathetic phone call with a fellow volunteer that involved mostly whimpering on my part, I seriously contemplate getting back on a bus and returning to America. Then I start laughing. A twisted laughter keeping the tears at bay and ultimately reminding me that, Oh yeah, I'm in Peace Corps.

I don't know if you know this but I'm an incredibly good packer. To Paraguay I brought one checked piece of luggage that was under 50 pounds. (I'm telling you. I'm better than Mary Poppins.) In addition to clothes and climbing gear, I was able to fit my camping equipment! And what is a tent, if not a free standing mosquito/bug net? So after taking a few minutes to calm down, I set up my little shelter to prevent the creepy crawlies from advancing their campaign to my pillow. I still freaked out pretty hard anytime I felt the slightest twinge but this was better than my initial idea of wrapping myself in my mosquito net.
My nest.

I'm still sleeping the in the tent. It's serving me pretty good. A few blankets and a pillow have been added since, but I really can't complain.

Since that night, I have "Raid-ed" my house, probably to the detriment of my health, viciously trying to murder each and everyone of these suckers. While numbers have decreased, they have yet to be eliminated. I'm hoping my mother's wisdom of leaving out trails of baking soda will work. She's pretty smart and used to live in New York. Plus I've enjoyed using the stereotype that all NYC apartments have incredible roach problems in this post, so I'm going to continue to use that line of thinking and justification for her credibility. (PS: What doesn't baking soda fix? I mean really? )

Sorry I don't have a more joyous post. I really did have a great time in America and was fully intending on writing about that, but this was just too damn ridiculous not to jump on.

It's just so indicative on life here. Just as everything looks like it's going perfectly, something goes horrifically and comically wrong.

Thanks for hanging in there with me. I know those photos were kinda gross.
Safe and Sound!