Tonight I was peacefully sitting in my room, working on something menial or reading McSweeney’s and listening to music when I see a big brown object scuttle across the carpet. I turn to see that a waterbug/cockroach* was lunging towards me. What the fuck? Do these things just follow me wherever I go? 

Granted, I’m not as scared as when I faced Juicy Wingy McJuicerroach back when I lived in the Lower East Side, but that doesn’t detract an ounce of hatred I have for them. Die, die, DIE….but not around me. It ran back and forth and back and forth in the corner of my room for a really long time. I didn’t want to kill it on the carpet so I was hoping it would eventually make its way back out the room to the tiled floor.

Unfortunately, it hasn’t come out yet. In fact, I don’t even know where it is anymore. It’s not in the corner anymore, not on the walls, nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it ran under my bed? Under my sheets? I’m hoping that my roommate comes home any minute to help me, help me, HELP ME!

* I’d love to make the distinction for you but there’s no way I’m about to stare at photos of these creatures to find their anatomical differences and compare them to what I saw in my room.

A little over a week ago, I left my Lower East Side apartment because I had a terrible encounter with a waterbug/American cockroach (see: the many letters to the creepy crawlies below). Since I refused to go home, I walked more than I could ever imagine. I got sores up and down my feet. I searched vigilantly for coffee shops, bookstores, anywhere where I could sit for extended periods of time without feeling awkward or noticed.

I didn’t think there would be lasting effects, but now what I believe is the tendon that connects my shin to my toes (extensor tendon) is inflamed and does the creaking sound so symptomatic of tendonitis. I tape my foot up but it doesn’t work as well as I’d hope at stabilizing the foot.

I wouldn’t ever have conceived that walking too much could hurt me so badly. It seems to be a little reminder of how, even as young adults, we are still so fragile and mortal. I can’t even take my feet for granted.

Some point during the week, I realised that I was also getting bumps on my body. I, being the psychosomatic nutcase that I am, self-diagnosed myself as having bedbugs. Once I did so, I started itching all over and noticing more red bumps show up. If that wasn’t enough, late Thursday evening, an American cockroach (you know, the huge, 2-inch long ones with wings, the one that can run up to 3.3 mph) crawled, ran, and flapped its horrible, horrible wings in my apartment and proceeded to give me a panic/anxiety attack. We probably made eye-to-antennae contact a few times when I shouted in dread whenever it moved.

How could I ever imagine sleeping with that (and potentially thousands more lurking in the building) crawling all over the place? I was going to make a run for it. The insect took a temporary leave behind some boxes on the far wall of the kitchen. I bolted into the bedroom to gather my essentials when it zooms back into my room. I am cornered into the bathroom.

Cue war cry and hysterical spraying of Raid Ant and Cockroach spray.

I was immobilized for forty or so minutes in the bathroom. Scared that any moment, it would pop up right by my toes. I finally convinced myself to grab everything, not look back, and get out.

And so began my three days as a homeless person.

It was about 2:30, 3 a.m. in the morning. I call 311, NYC’s local assistance line.
Me: Do you have any numbers of places I can stay tonight?
311 Operator: What? You mean like a homeless shelter?
Me: I’m not homeless….I meant a hotel.

I stayed at three different places on three different nights. First, I intruded on a friend of a friend’s apartment. I was relieved to know that I did not have bedbugs. This, unfortunately, did not solve the cockroach problem. The following day I didn’t go near my apartment. I booked lunches, dinners, apartment viewings, and arranged to sleep at another friend’s place.

Unfortunately again, I barely slept last night because one of her roommates found bed bugs. This time it was legit. Shit, I thought, where am I going to go at 4 a.m. in the morning? There was no way I was going to lie down on the couch in the common room. I tried calling hostels; I tried walking back and forth for as long as I could to pass the time; I contemplated sleeping at a 24-hour Starbucks or a train station; I also thought I could ride the subway back and forth until morning. Around 5:30 a.m., I passed out for twenty to thirty minutes on the kitchen table, where flies from the neighboring trash pile landed on my body.

I caved. I laid down for a few minutes, but then the flies started to land on my body again. It was about 6:30 a.m. I got up. Soon after, I noticed two white/reddish welts on my body. The fucking bedbugs! I left the apartment immediately.

It was a long, long, looonnng morning and afternoon. I could be standing and I’d start nodding off. But, wait, it ends well: I found a wonderful place in Astoria, Queens that I can immediately move into.

It was hard to stay positive throughout this entire process. Many times I broke down and cried, wishing that I could be home or with a friend. I was grateful for the emotional support I received from friends, but it was hard to fight this battle physically alone. I’m trying to put it all behind me, but there won’t be a moment in these coming weeks when I don’t mistake a black dot on the ground or a piece of dark lint on my shirt for a cockroach.

Sincerely,
FUCK YOU,
A girl scarred for life

But hey, I can always ask again: please leave?

Thanks.

Sincerely,
Cockroach’s #1 Enemy

Are you preparing me for life in China? I remember you and your over 2-inch long selves often surprised me by coming up from the shower drain and paying my room a visit. Well guess what? When I get an apartment, I’m going to find one on the 210398120420th floor so you can’t get there.

Sincerely,
A panic-stricken tenant in the Lower East Side

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