La Cucaracha

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but though creepy-crawlies in general don't disturb me in the least, I'm quite phobic when it comes to the dreaded, disgusting, disease-bearing COCKROACH.

I was preparing for a Diamond massage the other day, which is our most exclusive, expensive service. It involves a full-body scrub (exfoliation), plus a massage incorporating Swedish, deep tissue, and hot stone modalities.

I opened one of my cupboards to check how many sheets I had, and froze...as did the heinous cockroach sitting on the topmost sheet in the stack.

Now, when I say "phobic", I mean that I've mostly overcome the severe phobia I had as a child. I don't scream anymore, or gag, or jump on top of the nearest chair, table, bed, etc. Nor do I run away and cower in a corner, whimpering pathetically. (All behaviors which I have displayed in the past.)

Instead, as I felt my heart rate ratchet up while I started hyperventilating, I sprang into action. I HAD to kill this motherfucker, before the service started, and without alerting the guests on the other side of the door that anything at all was amiss. I slowly backed away, even as the noisome critter impudently twitched its antennae at me.

Bugspray! Where was the bugspray? Did we even HAVE any bugspray? Apparently not, I decided after frantically searching the storeroom. Foiled, I decided to return to the scene of the insectoid crime and dispatch the miscreant using more forceful measures...i.e. my shoe.

I pushed the table aside, so the bug couldn't run underneath, then, holding one of my shoes aloft, I started wildly pulling sheets out of the cupboard and onto the floor. Hey, they were soiled already, so who cares?

There it went! Unfortunately, it scurried into the next cabinet over, where all the towels and face cradle covers were neatly stacked. Great, now I'd have to replace all of those, too.

All this time, the clock was ticking down, every second bringing me closer to the moment when I'd have to collect my client from the lounge area.

I finally gave up, after emptying the towel cabinet, too. The vile critter had obviously scurried back into whatever hell spawned it, leaving behind droppings as evidence of its miserable existence. Droppings *I* would now have to clean up. Blech.

After hastily disposing of the soiled sheets and towels (and the poop, never forget the poop), I went and got my client and started the service. This was the longest hour and a half of my life, if you disregard the times I was in labor, of course.

The whole time I was massaging and scrubbing the nice lady who'd forked over a small fortune for this privilege, I kept seeing shadows scurrying out of the corner of my eye. You have to remember that the room is extremely dark, as well...this contributes to the client's relaxation. It was doing NOTHING for my blood pressure, though. Any time my ankle brushed against one of the dangling edges of a sheet, I imagined the skittering legs of the roach depositing germs in their wake. It was all I could do to at least maintain the semblance of calm. I had nightmare visions of the cockroach crawling ON MY CLIENT during the service.

I wanted to cry.

Finally, after about three eternities, we were through. I couldn't hustle the client out of the room fast enough!

I looked around my treatment room carefully: No roach.

I restocked my cupboards and went about my business, albeit with one eye always scanning the floors and walls carefully, wanting to make sure my nemesis didn't take me by surprise again.

It wasn't until the next day the villain showed its ugly face again, cheekily sitting on top of the clean sheets in the cupboard, causing me to experience serious deja vu.

Luckily, on this day I could employ my secret weapon: my favorite spa attendant, Maura! She who has no fear of cockroaches, and was blase about smashing it with MY shoe (hey, it was the least I could do, since she was willing to kill it, to let her borrow my shoe to do so), after I had rendered it a bit incapacitated but not dead by judiciously employing Lysol spray in an attempt to kill the damn thing.

My foe finally vanquished, I tidied up my room, new sheets AGAIN, and prayed I'd not have another encounter with an evil cucaracha.

You hear that, Cockroaches? Stay away from Christina LMT!