...over fucking cockroaches.

(Warning: vulgarity and grossness to follow)

We saw the first one IN OUR APT last week. It fell onto the fucking table when DH brought in the mail. We both screamed like little girls. DH picked it up with a wad of napkins and flushed it.

The next one we saw the next day. It was on the fucking wall coming down toward us from the fucking ceiling. MOTHERFUCKER!!

Then I went to the bathroom Friday and what does my eye see out of the corner.... movement on the back of the bathtub. Another fucking roach. I scream like a bitch and DH runs in and takes care of it. I couldn't piss for 10 minutes as I just looked around the bathroom.

I finally manage to fall asleep Friday night and have to get up to pee in the middle of the night - about 3 am. I open the bathroom door (keep it closed to keep cats out), flip the switch on, and a fucking roach scatters across the motherfucking sink. I scream like a little bitch but the a/c was on so DH didn't hear me. I grab some toilet paper but the mother fucknig thing ran behind the toilet. I couldn't pee. I couldn't stop shaking and crying... I HATE FUCKING COCKROACHES!!

I go into the bedroom and turn the light on as I'm bawling and shaking. I look around the room and there's something crawing on the fucking door IN OUR BEDROOM. I scream. DH wakes up and I point to the back of the door. He jumps up and gets it and ASSURES it was a beetle or something but NOT a roach.

WHATTHEFUCKEVER!

I can't talk and I can barely breathe at this point. DH is trying to calm me down. I tell him I have to pee but there was another roach in the bathroom. He goes in there and shakes otu everything and no roach. I pee but barely anythign comes out cuz I can't stand to be in there.

I come back to the bed and I'm shaking and crying and I relive something from my childhood with DH to explain my reaction... I was about 10 and my mother let me spend the night at some friends of her. They lived on [X Busy Street]. I remember this because it was bright and noisy at all hours of the night. I slept on the couch. AND ROACHES WERE EVERYWHERE. EVERYFUCKINGWHERE.

I know nobody likes roaches and I know everyone reacts badly - especially when they're in your own home. I get that and this is just my story... but DH calms me down and says (and I know this will sound awful but...), "Cuz this is the worst thing that happened to you this week."

I could've punched him. "No, baby," I spit out. "But I don't envision being strapped onto a gurney and being wheeled into a surgery room to get a baby sucked out from my uterus when I close my eyes!! I do, however envision roaches crawling on the bed and on the walls and floor when I close my eyes!"


Saturday we cleaned - everything. The landlord was told by all of us (there's three floors) about the roaches and he suspects it's a result of the bums that litter the front stoop. Claims he'll call an exterminator.

Sunday was roach free but yesterday wasn't. We also had horrific storms, including tornado sirens blaring, and in addition to dealing with roaches, we had to deal with rain falling down into our living room because the asshats upstairs left their windows wide open and the monsoon that carried tons of water into their place producing a lake in their living room, caused water to rain down into our living room.

God, I fucking HATE living where we live!