The other night I was walking upstairs and suddenly came face to face with a Palmetto Bug (AKA a flying cockroach). I would have taken a picture of it but it was so big, it was blocking my access to my phone.
You really can’t go to sleep when there is a gigantic flying cockroach on the loose, so I knew I had to do something.
I found one of the kids’ buckets and threw it over him. I was about to write a note for my husband like this…
“Welcome home from work! There is a flying cockroach under this bucket. Please remove. Love, your wife. P.S. Don’t forget to shut off the hall lights.”
But then I started to worry that the bug was suffocating under the bucket.
Now only a crazy person would worry about this. I mean, who cares if the bug suffocates, right? But I felt guilty. I mean, that’s not a great way to go. Especially for a bug who was probably just doing his own thing, lost his way and is now confused under a green plastic bucket.
I really blame my father for my irrational state of mind. When I was a kid, we used to play these car games on long rides and one of them was, “How much would someone have to pay you to rip the wings off a butterfly?”
Well, there was no amount of money – not millions or billions – that would make my dad agree to do it. As for me at the time, I think I was willing to do it for $5 and a package of Pop Rocks.
But some of his lofty ethics must have rubbed off on me because there I was, many years later, in the middle of my house stressing about whether a flying cockroach could breathe under a bucket.
I knew I couldn’t sleep with thoughts of his potentially diminished lung capacity, so I needed a new game plan.
I gingerly slid a manilla envelope under the bucket and then for added security, put a book under the envelope. I then proceeded to bring the whole contraption outside and attempted to free the palmetto bug back into the wild.
But when I lifted up the bucket, he just sat there. I think it was the first time in history a cockroach had been freed, so he was pretty stunned about the whole turn of events.
I said goodnight and shut the door.
By morning, he was gone. I feel pretty good about how the whole thing went down. I’m sure he’s still telling his friends about the day he survived the green bucket.