Chronicles of a Cockroach

Erin’s been looking a little rough around the edges lately, so this is the cocroach who’s moved in under her stove posting for her today.  Yeah– she doesn’t have any real pets.  She says she doubts she has the love to sustain a long-term relationship but I think she won’t commit because she knows the poor little thing would probably starve to death in her house.  She’s always going to the fridge and saying things like, “What happened to the milk?  We had a gallon of milk in here…  Tim???  Tim did you drink all the milk?”  She stresses  the word “all” like that makes it a crime: drinking allthe milk.  It works out OK for me, though.  She also hasn’t cleaned her house in about 3 months so I just scoot around the kitchen floor at night picking up whatever has been dropped.

The other night I was just about smoked out of the house, though.  It was St Patty’s day and for some reason they had these random guys over I’ve never seen before,  smoking cigars and playing poker.  Erin was running around serving food and refilling drinks.  She finally turned in at about midnight but the guys stayed until 2am.  Then Wednesday night, there I am, scuttling around the kitchen doing my usual thing– it’s like 12:30 in the morning again, and WHAM!  on go the lights.  I run for cover as I hear her, Tim, and Jordan barge in talking– something about working at a humanitarian event that night at the National Portrait Gallery, meeting Desmond Tutu…  Erin spots me and hisses “Ewwwwe a cockroach!! Filthy!”  I was back under the stove before she could do anything about it, but I wanted to say,  “Listen, lady. I’ve seen the rings in your tub.  Spare me the righteous indignation.” 

Friday night I guess Tim surprised her with a night at the circus (he knew a guy who knew a clown who got them tickets.  Weird.  And creepy.), and she came back to the house so excited and chatting up a storm– you’d have thought she was James Harriot or something.  I overheard her talking about it while she made crepes for this guy, Berek, they had over for breakfast Saturday morning. ”The elephants were so cute!  They’re so dumpy and huge but it’s like they’re almost smiling when they do a trick like balancing on their back legs.  And the way they grab each other others tails and plod their way out of the ring?  Adorable!”

Sunday they were gone all day.  A picnic lunch on the Eastern Shore I surmised by the leftover salami, wine, bread and cheese they brought home.

Monday rolls around and on her way out the door to catch the bus she spots the pile of unfolded clothes on the dining room table  and mumbles something like “This house is such a mess….” in a surprised way that makes me curious about how humans would compare to cockroaches on standardized tests.  Until she draws that connection between doing housework and having a clean house, I think it’s safe to assume I’ll be living in luxury.