Apartment Stories: Mother F*cking Cockroaches

I need to preface this story by saying that I have never seen a cockroach before. I’ve seen hissing cockroaches on tv, but that is my only frame of reference. 

It all started when I picked up the kettle one evening a couple of weeks ago, and saw some beetle-y type of bug zip off. It startled me, but it was like a black blur, so I thought nothing of it.

A couple of days ago by, and then one morning I’m home alone, and open up the cupboard to have a beetle-y type of bug try to kamikaze me. I yelp, the bug falls out of the cupboard and there’s a mad dash of the bug trying to escape and me trying to kill it. The bug escapes.

Another day goes by and this time there’s one near the sink when I pick up the sponge. More yelling occurs, and this time I manage to take a picture of it. I text Doug (who is at work) and ask him “WTF is this bug.” The picture is a crappy one, and he can’t be sure. I ask him if it’s a cockroach because it’s the only word I have to define what these bugs are. He says it doesn’t look like one.

Now, all of these sightings so far have only been seen by me. I am currently the girl who cried bug, and Doug at this point thinks (I’m sure) that I’m blowing this out of proportion.

The next morning comes around, and I am running late for work, and need to take a shower. I pull the curtain back to see another one of these God forsaken bugs in the tub. This time though Doug is home – sleeping finally after a nightshift. So what do I do? I wake the poor man up and demand that he come look at this bug.

He comes into the bathroom and said the words that I dreaded hearing, “Yup, that’s a cockroach.”

I left the bathroom, went back to bed and just cried.

Overdramatic? Yes. Was I, in that moment, totally done with all of this? Yup.

Doug comes back to hug me, and promises to talk to the building manager about it that day. I get ready for work, Doug makes me lunch and I make it to work – on time even.

Later, when I come home, I get the scoop. Our building’s common areas are sprayed every month, and they also spray any apartments that have any problems. WE MISSED THE EXTERMINATORS BY ONE DAY. So, they’re coming early July.In the meantime, Doug sprayed the apartment, and we’ve recently set traps. Doug has taken out at least 3, and I’ve taken out 1 (it was really tiny. I do not do bugs people).

You know what the funny thing is though? Before we met Doug and I never had any problems with bugs in any apartment that we’ve lived in. We’ve been together almost a year and a half, and we’ve dealt with bedbugs and cockroaches. It’s like we had too good apartment karma and the scales needed to be balanced or something.

Never a dull moment here at the apartment. Stayed tune for next’s week (mis)adventure!

 

Review Tuesday: One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter

It’s been a long time since I did a Review Tuesday, and it’s not like I stopped reading books (I’ve read 47 so far this year), it’s just that I got super lazy. But, I’m trying to kick the lazy-ness. So, I’m back with the Review Tuesday. And first book I’m back with is One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter by Scaachi Koul.

From Goodreads:

A collection of essays about growing up the daughter of Indian immigrants in Canada, “a land of ice and casual racism,” by the cultural observer, Scaachi Koul.

In One Day We’ll All Be Dead and None of This Will Matter, Scaachi deploys her razor-sharp humour to share her fears, outrages and mortifying experiences as an outsider growing up in Canada. Her subjects range from shaving her knuckles in grade school, to a shopping trip gone horribly awry, to dealing with internet trolls, to feeling out of place at an Indian wedding (as an Indian woman), to parsing the trajectory of fears and anxieties that pressed upon her immigrant parents and bled down a generation. Alongside these personal stories are pointed observations about life as a woman of colour, where every aspect of her appearance is open for critique, derision or outright scorn. Where strict gender rules bind in both Western and Indian cultures, forcing her to confront questions about gender dynamics, racial tensions, ethnic stereotypes and her father’s creeping mortality–all as she tries to find her feet in the world.

This is one of my favourite books of the year. I’m usually not a big fan of essay-style books, but I fell in love with this one. I truthfully found out about it through a Facebook ad where the ad copy was something along the lines of “my boss told me I have to market this book even though one day we’ll all be dead and none of this will matter,” and it made me laugh, so I had to look up the book. (Well done marketing person).

The one thing that I loved about this book was that it was written from a completely different perspective from my own. I’m a middle class white female. I’ve never experienced racism before – I’ve definitely experienced sexism, (which she also talks about) but not racism. So it was interesting to read about someone close to my age who experiences it on a fairly regular basis. Interesting and disturbing. Her version of Canada is different from mine, and I wasn’t happy that she was experiencing – and is experiencing – something so awful. But, it was good to read about it because I needed to know. And every Canadian needs to know that this happens. Nothing can change if we don’t all frankly talk about what we experience.

Racism was one of the big things that Scaachi talked about, but she also talked about sexism (Good Lord I hear ya on that), and just other life experiences that she’s had. I also really enjoyed her essay about the perpetual fear that she lives in – only because I also have that going on (though to a lesser degree).

Overall, this was a very smart, funny, and engrossing book. I loved that it made me think, made me reevaluate things that I thought I knew, and just made me laugh. The writing is brilliant and engaging and I couldn’t put it down. I also LOVED that it was Canadian. I’m starved for Canadian content.

If you haven’t read this book you definitely should. It’s not one that you can miss.

Apartment Stories: Moving In

Near the end of May I moved in with Doug, boyfriend extraordinaire and love of my life. We had always planned on moving in together this year, but a shitty living situation at his old apartment (a neighbour with a reoccurring bedbug problem that became Doug’s reoccurring problem) had us looking for a place earlier than we anticipated.

Doug moved into our new place in January, and I lived at the apartment on the weekends. I was saving up for a car, which is why I wasn’t able to move in at the beginning of the year. The apartment though was always “ours”. My name was on the lease with his, we furnished and decorated together, and also moved in some of my stuff in January too.

Finally, I moved in at the end of May, and I have to say the first week was a bit rough for me. I have an anxiety problem, and ulcerative colitis. Each of those on their own sucks, but the fun times start when one of them sets off the other, and that’s what happened the first week of me officially moving in.

I am not good with change or with new things. Do I adapt and overcome and succeed? Absolutely. It just takes me a little bit longer than everyone else to do that. I think Doug was worried for the first week that I regretted moving in or that I was going to change my mind because I was just so anxious. And I kept reassuring him that it was simply because everything was new.

Lo and behold by week 2 and 3 I was no longer anxious. There was no hum zipping through me like electricity or anything. Do I still get anxious in general? Of course. It’s something I deal with on a regular basis, and Doug is amazingly wonderful for helping me deal, and just being supportive. But the “new apartment, this is where I live now” anxiety is completely gone because this is home.

Anxiety is fantastic at helping you live inside a little box where you get way too comfortable – and incredibly bored. So, as nerve-wracking as it is, you have to continuously push yourself to try new things and move forward because while the anxiety can get really bad, it never lasts, and it is so worth it when you get to the other side of “new”.

 

Stay tuned for next week’s Apartment Story!