Avoidance, and Other Matters
In the time-honored tradition of blogging as procrastination, I will say that I am desperately avoiding the task of the evening, which involves making war on the cockroach population that seems to have suddenly taken over the kitchen in my dream apartment. Yes, it's distressing, but I know they can be quashed, and that it just happens sometimes--it's a facet of apartment life here in Big City.
Last night I scrounged through some boxes of miscellanous household items that I had still not sorted through from when I moved last year, because I remembered having seen a box of those Combat "bait stations," as the manufacturer calls them. I put them out as a stopgap measure, but I had a feeling they were pretty old. This feeling was confirmed when a coupon fluttered out of the box, promising me 35 cents off my next purchase of the product--as long as I used the coupon before December 31st, 1998.
So today I went out at lunchtime and bought two more boxes and some boric acid, which people assure me will do the cockroaches in. But I am daunted by the prospect of clearing out at least some of the cabinets to put the stuff around.
While I gather my resolve, here is some other news:
I am feeling better than when I posted last week (thank you, btw, to Jodi and Clowncar for your kind comments). As the wise bus driver reminded me, no two days are the same. Last week I had lots of fun evenings with friends and family--a birthday celebration for my nephew, a movie date with a pal I hadn't seen in awhile, and a dinner out with work friends. On Friday night I went with my sister to an outdoor concert in the local park, something I usually do a lot over the summer but haven't yet this year because of the crazy heat we've been having. Also I don't live as near this park as I used to, so I felt a little nostalgic being there and thinking about all the concerts I've been to over the years and all the things that have happened in my life and in the world that the park, and the concerts, have been a backdrop to. (My sister asked me, "Did we even come last year?" I said, "Don't you remember? We were here the night Michael Jackson died. People in front of us were looking at their phones as the news came in." Then we tried to remember when that was--was it before my niece's visit in July or after it? and what concert did we see? Of course the internet helped us answer all those questions.)
Over the weekend I did yoga, took a long walk, and played volleyball--three of my favorite activities. It felt good to be physically active after several weeks of working so many hours--with the summer class that I was teaching--that I really had no time to do anything else. And the weather, finally, was not brutally hot but mild, sunny, comfortable, on Saturday, and on Sunday, moodily threatening rain but it never rained and so we played volleyball for hours and hours, back in the park again, the same park where I went to hear music with my sister on Friday.
Okay, I guess that brings me back to the present--although, believe me, I could elaborate more on the various micro-experiences of my weekend. And perhaps I will, some other time.
For now, I will face the task that awaits me.
Last night I scrounged through some boxes of miscellanous household items that I had still not sorted through from when I moved last year, because I remembered having seen a box of those Combat "bait stations," as the manufacturer calls them. I put them out as a stopgap measure, but I had a feeling they were pretty old. This feeling was confirmed when a coupon fluttered out of the box, promising me 35 cents off my next purchase of the product--as long as I used the coupon before December 31st, 1998.
So today I went out at lunchtime and bought two more boxes and some boric acid, which people assure me will do the cockroaches in. But I am daunted by the prospect of clearing out at least some of the cabinets to put the stuff around.
While I gather my resolve, here is some other news:
I am feeling better than when I posted last week (thank you, btw, to Jodi and Clowncar for your kind comments). As the wise bus driver reminded me, no two days are the same. Last week I had lots of fun evenings with friends and family--a birthday celebration for my nephew, a movie date with a pal I hadn't seen in awhile, and a dinner out with work friends. On Friday night I went with my sister to an outdoor concert in the local park, something I usually do a lot over the summer but haven't yet this year because of the crazy heat we've been having. Also I don't live as near this park as I used to, so I felt a little nostalgic being there and thinking about all the concerts I've been to over the years and all the things that have happened in my life and in the world that the park, and the concerts, have been a backdrop to. (My sister asked me, "Did we even come last year?" I said, "Don't you remember? We were here the night Michael Jackson died. People in front of us were looking at their phones as the news came in." Then we tried to remember when that was--was it before my niece's visit in July or after it? and what concert did we see? Of course the internet helped us answer all those questions.)
Over the weekend I did yoga, took a long walk, and played volleyball--three of my favorite activities. It felt good to be physically active after several weeks of working so many hours--with the summer class that I was teaching--that I really had no time to do anything else. And the weather, finally, was not brutally hot but mild, sunny, comfortable, on Saturday, and on Sunday, moodily threatening rain but it never rained and so we played volleyball for hours and hours, back in the park again, the same park where I went to hear music with my sister on Friday.
Okay, I guess that brings me back to the present--although, believe me, I could elaborate more on the various micro-experiences of my weekend. And perhaps I will, some other time.
For now, I will face the task that awaits me.
posted by Sarah Sometimes at 9:39 PM
4 Comments:
Well, if you need some inspiration, please just read some of Clarice Lispector's stories about cockroaches, or, for that matter, a whole novel that mentions them too (it is a difficult novel, though, The Passion According to GH, I haven't been able to finish it, and I wrote a dissertation partly on Clarice!). Let me know if you need the story title(s). I might not get back to you tonight, though! ;-)
P.S. I was going to comment on the previous post, but then I was traveling, etc... oh well (I did comment on another one about the trip, though... & didn't go back to see if you'd back commented). OK, gotta go!
glad to hear to are feeling better. I have your wise bus driver pictured very vividly in my mind.
we're dealing with a fly population explosion, so I can relate to the roach thing. there is nothing more gross than a sticky fly strip covered with dead flies.
Lilian: thanks for the comment, yes, do send me the story titles when you have a minute.
Clowncar: thanks for your expression of solidarity! and sorry about the flies. and the bus driver, well, I could tell you what he looked and sounded like, but maybe it's more fun for you to have your own idea.
Re: the "sudden" infestation, it could be that someone else in your building just exterminated her cockroaches, and thus they all migrated into your house. The building needs to be dealt with as a whole.
T.
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