When she saw the funny side...

I have a cockroach problem, sort of, in my apartment. Sweet!

About a week ago, I saw a cockroach once, then twice, running around my kitchen. The second time, I saw the cockroach disappear into the corner under one of the cabinets. On closer inspection, it turned out there was a big fucking hole down under there. Needless to say, I was unhappy.

Not knowing what to do, I wrote an email to my landlady, and moved my desklamp into the kitchen, training the light on the hole. I left the lamp like that, night and day, for two days, until my landlady could come and look at the problem. I also bought a shit ton of house cleaners and bug killer, since in my eyes everything in my kitchen (and probably the rest of the apartment, this isn't a big place) was now dirty and infected with bugs. Not just any bug either, but the biggest and most disgusting bug that was ever likely to invade my home. And I waited.

My landlady came, looked at the hole for 20 seconds, then told me to go buy some tape. She then asked me if I could move out of my apartment by early July (my lease and my visa here don't run out until the first of September), because she had someone else who might want to move in here then. And then she left.

After she left, I fumed, and sprayed more bug spray around the house. The next day, I taped up the hole. Soon after, I found a cockroach dying in my bathroom. Awesome. I sprayed it with more bug killer, then covered it with a scoop of laundry detergent, and swept it and the detergent into my dustpan. I threw the contents of the dustpan out onto the street in front of my apartment.

Today, I have been sitting around the house cleaning and waiting for my landlady to show my apartment. 15 minutes after she was supposed to be here, she calls to tell me she is canceling the appointment because the guy is taking another apartment. When I tell her I still need to talk about the bug issue, she tells me she has other business now and hangs up on me. Again, awesome!

I am so glad I don't pay this woman her rent on time. Maybe I will go on rent-paying strike until she fixes the wall.


On happier notes, it's Golden Week, so I can do fuckall for the next 9 days or so and that is just fine. Also, last night, after having a short conversation about the 1994 movie version of "Little Women" (holy shit, Winona Ryder is painful to watch in that thing), I re-remembered my love of Gabriel Byrne and in particular his performance in "Miller's Crossing". Afterwards, I had a long night of dreams in which a young Mr. Byrne was my boyfriend. If only my dreams were like that more often, instead of their more usual form, where I am fighting with my parents or have to save my sisters from the apocalypse. Come on, psyche, cut me some slack here.