Blog Post Dos: In Which I Slay a Beast.

How often is it appropriate to update one’s blog?  I suppose it remains acceptable until one begins to document each and every waking moment – and I will continue to hold this belief until someone corrects me, so if I’m wrong, please stop me from blabbing away like some sort of idiot.

Had a lovely warm day today, and did not have to wear pants. 

Yet my outfit does bring me to my first point…

I awakened this morning in a cheery mood, as I so often do here.  (Although last night I had the strange problem of Hyper Body Syndrome.  It didn’t strike me as odd then, but as it occurs to me now that it wasn’t entirely normal…  Kept waking self up with random jerks accompanied by a hefty dose of flailing, which was fine until I awakened to find self attempting to run horizontally.  Distinctly remember thinking, “Well, this is irritating” – but no attempts to correct the problem.  Just flung about until morning.  New form of exercise?)

Back to the morning.  Woke up, tottled about happily for awhile, took a shower (where I am always pelted by falling objects – the hazards of four girls sharing one shelf), and returned to my room to ready myself for the day. 

And here struck tragedy.

Dancing about (for there really is no other way to behave whilst wearing a towel), I selected a dress and began to insert myself into it.  Felt a bizarre little scratching on my arm, so I began to brush it off, as I would any----

COCKROACH.  It was a COCKROACH. 

Now, I am not afraid of bugs, although I am slightly suspicious of cockroaches, as they claim to be able to resist nuclear attack.

Horrified by this intruder, I pushed it off my arm and onto the floor.  I stood over it, victorious, until I realized that its legs were still gallivanting about in the air.  It was stuck on its back.

I peered at it, uncertain.

Suddenly struck by brilliance, I journeyed to my bookcase and began to peruse the titles for a suitable weapon.  Finally selected a something I deemed to be heavy enough to crush a nuclear repellent beast.

I strutted over to the repugnant little thing, and gave it an assured tap with the novel.  I then lifted the book to assess the damage, only to find that it had mysteriously disappeared.

Puzzled, I turned over the book to discover that it had begun SCUTTLING AROUND THE COVER.

The panic!  The horror!

Beginning to believe in the invincibility of the cockroach, I began indiscriminately whacking the book (complete with freeloading cockroach rider) against various objects.  Wall – THWACK!  Dresser – THWACK!  Desk – THWACK!  Door – THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!  If anyone had been home, they would have been certain that World War III was occurring in my room before breakfast.

However, my cunning wit and sheer brutal strength persevered, and the repugnant little thing will trouble this earth no more.

You may now call me Stealthy Cockroach Assassin.