A Bug's Life: At the BFG, anyway

When I first moved to NYC in 1996, I lived on 64th and West End in a teeny tiny apartment with two friends I loved a lot (still do as it turns out!)! That apartment had a bit of a revolving door... and at one point- a mouse issue. The building next door was undergoing serious renovations (it is now a grocery store) and the mice decided to relocate. They were tiny, cute and very comfortable at our house. Little bastards. I will share more mice stories later as this post is about bugs! I only bring up the mice because I was slightly smug about my lack of fear of them and used to think, "at least it isn't cock roaches"....

Here's the thing- I was (and still am as it turns out) much less afraid of mice than I am of roaches. I HATE roaches. They are horrible, disgusting, ballsy little fuckers. I am not afraid of other bugs. "Country" bugs, as I like to call them. My Preying Mantis, the spider beatles, lady bugs, even spiders don't bother me. I don't want one on my person, per se but I don't HATE them. Last week, I all but tripped over a GIANT bug that may or may not have been a roach making his way from the patio door to the front door in the BFG Apartment. I dropped a book on it's ass and did a little dance on the book. Hence, my not being entirely sure what it was as it was mush the next morning when I lifted the book. Dirty City bug. Don't get me wrong- I don't want mice now and I didn't want them then but I still remember the day I rolled over in my tiny teeny bedroom and a small roach was crawling up my wall. I smacked it with a shoe and fell back to sleep. And though booze may have helped, I left that shoe print on my wall for some time because it made me feel like a real New Yorker. Real New Yorkers didn't have trouble falling asleep because of one cockroach. 

Jay and I once coated a huge, huge roach (or water bug as people like to call them to make themselves feel better) in spray starch. It was the first thing I grabbed as the roach came out from under the fancy pants, envy inducing, 6 burner oven. The Housekeeper was ironing, you see. Anyway- we piled it on to the the bastard. Easily half a can. And it foamed up and completely hid the roach. Jay and I ran to get a shoe (or a staff member) to come deal with it and as we returned to the kitchen...  the foam was dying down and the roach was rising out of it, Terminator like and returning back from whence it came. A little stiff, perhaps but very much NOT dead! At least I didn't have to touch it, I guess.

Where is this story going? Well, it is circling around and around to this...  I just returned from Nannyland today and napped it up on the couch. When I woke up, I started doing the crossword puzzle from New York Magazine. (I LOVE the crossword in New York Magazine, btw) and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a house centipede running along the wall behind the couch. I smacked it with my magazine and without missing a beat- returned to the crossword. Awwww, yeah. A bug's life isn't an easy one. It is easier than most here at the BFG Apartment as I tolerate all manner of bugs here. But every once in awhile, I have to remind myself that I am still a real New Yorker. Tough enough to take care of things and keep moving forward unscathed.  

Maybe I am more anxious about my trip to England this week than I thought.... If only a hardcover book and a can of spray starch took care of other things...