Guess where I'll be June 2?
That's right. My very first jury duty. So this is what I get for registering to vote, eh? No shorts or tank tops, eh? What's a girl in the middle of a sweltering summer to do?
Oh yeah. Courtrooms are usually air-conditioned, right? Unlike in the Atticus Finch days, where by the end of the day the ladies are covered like cupcakes in frostings of sweat and sweet talcum? Thank god for AC, and here in the south, it's the one thing most people are liberal about (using it, I mean).
Last night I had an overnight babysitting job with Natty's family. (Refresher: 4 girls under the age of 12.) All was fine and dandy until abouttt 11:00 p.m. All the kids were long asleep and I was about to pass out with exhaustion myself, so I dragged my butt off the comfy sofa and away from Jon & Kate Plus 8 (what? Don't judge me. I don't have cable at my house so I watch it when I can, regardless of what's on) to lock up the house and head to bed.
Lock the back doors, check. Make sure the back gate is shut, check. Windows are closed in case of rain, check. Front door.....why isn't this darn thing locking? Why can't I get the deadbolt to lock? (It's an old-fashioned door with no keyhole on the inside, so you can only lock it with the deadbolt. Or so I thought.)
After trying various positions of the door (semi-open, shut, slamming against it to make sure it's REALLY shut) not working with the key, and about 10 minutes of sleep-deprived me about to hit a last nerve, I'm thisclose to waking up Natty and asking her how to lock the damn door. But, I resign myself, it's a school night and she needs sleep. So I persevere.
And then...out of the corner of my eye...I see it.
A big brown dot on the wall.
A big brown moving dot on the wall.
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. It's a cockroach. And it's a big'un.
Y'all, I am mortally afraid of the damn things. I kid you not. I can handle baby vomit, poopy diapers and small spiders like a champ. But cockroaches? Tooootally different story. Since I'm the only adult in the house, I'm extremely tempted to run next door, bang frantically on the neighbors' doors screaming, "EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!," but I restrain.
"Nanny," I tell myself (in my head), "you can do this. It's just a little bug. You can do this."
I look around, slightly panicking, for anything I can use to kill it. The only thing I can come up is an old, heavy, metal-tipped umbrella. (Genius. I know.)
"Okay, mister," I brace myself, "I'm gonna get you now!"
Next thing I know, I'm blindly whacking the floor, the walls, the door...everything in range of el cockroach, trying to get it. Whack. Whack. Whack. Oops, I scratched the wall. Whack. Whack. Whack.
"Nanny?" I hear a little voice say. "What's going on?"
Double oops. Someone's up.
Thank goodness it turns out to be Natty, not one of the little ones. I'm so relieved it's her (she can show me how to lock the front door!) that I turn away from Mister Roach for two seconds to watch Natty come down stairs...but when I look back around for the brown monster, it's gone.
Right out from under me.
I'm not too anxious to go searching around for it, so Natty quickly locks the front door and we bound upstairs. She ends up sleeping in her parents' room with me, which I'm glad for, cause if an angry cockroach is comin' for me in the middle of the night, I'm gonna need some help.