8.01.2007

Bugged



We found a cockroach in the office yesterday. Specifically, a 1.5 inch long sucker fell out of the ceiling tiles onto a co-worker's desk. If she'd been sitting in her chair, it would have hit her head on the way down. I guess the roach was as startled by the incident as we were, because it spent the next five minutes (until we lost track of it) scuttling around the floor with surprising animation, trying desperately to hide under recycling bins and behind doors. We finally cornered it, ready to pounce with an overturned cup ('cause no one wanted to squish the thing in their sandals). While we lay in wait, that crafty bug snuck behind the filing cabinets and tried to scamper passed our turned backs. Suddenly, someone noticed and shouted "Oh my GOD! It's RIGHT BEHIND YOU!" and much panicked re-staking of defensive positions ensued. The whole episode was like the (movie) love child of a slasher flick (much suspenseful anticipation punctuated by violent bursts of action and screaming reaction) and the lobster scene from Annie Hall. We never caught the roach, but no more have turned up since then, so I hope it was an isolated incident rather than an infestation-type scenario.

Speaking of which, the exterminator is coming on Friday to make sure we don't get any bug-type visitors in our aparment. We haven't had any pest problems at home, for which I'm truly, truly grateful. It's one thing to have a roach fall on your desk (as unappealing as that is); it's quite another to have to sleep with one eye open.

This morning, I undertook a pre-emptive strike against much smaller nasties: got all my immunizations for grad school. Three shots, three little sore spots on my arms. It's nice that I don't have to worry about getting meningitis or diptheria or anything like that. Aren't immunizations amazing? I mean, except for the rare cases where they fail, it's like magic: get a little injection, and you don't have to worry about catching a deadly disease. Smallpox is eradicated. Polio is almost history. Pretty crazy.

In other news, something reminded me the other day of a great Dar Williams song. Maybe it was the puttering I did over the rainy weekend? Anyway, this really speaks to me because I went to college in central/western New York state, and four members of my family were or are SUNY students. I've never been to southern California, but I love how she tried to capture rural New York's intangible charm in the lyrics.

Southern California Wants to be Western New York

There's a part of the country could drop off tomorrow in an earthquake,
Yeah it's out there on the cutting edge, the people move, the sidewalks shake.
And there's another part of the country with a land that gently creaks and thuds,
Where the heavy snows make faucets leak in bathrooms with free-standing tubs.
They're in houses that are haunted, with kids who lie awake and think
About
all the generations past who used to use that dripping sink.

And sometimes one place wants to slip into the other just to see
What it's like to trade its demons for the restless ghost of Mrs. Ogilvey,
She used to pick the mint from her front yard to dress the Sunday pork,
Sometimes southern California wants to be western New York.

It wants to have a family business in sheet metal or power tools,
It wants to have a diner where the coffee tastes like diesel fuel,
And it wants to find the glory of a town they say has hit the skids,
And it wants to have a snow day that will turn its parents into kids,
And it's embarrassed, but it's lusting after a SUNY student with mousy brown hair
Who is
taking out the compost, making coffee in long underwear.

And southern California says to save a place, I'll meet you there,
And it tried to pack up its Miata, all it could fit was a prayer,
Sometimes the stakes are bogus, sometimes the fast lane hits a fork,
Sometimes southern California wants to be western New York.

Tempe, Arizona thinks the Everglades are greener and wetter,
And Washington, D. C. thinks that Atlanta integrated better,
But I think that southern California has more pain that we can say,
Cause it wants to travel back in time, but it just can't leave L. A.

But now I hear they've got a theme park planned, designed to make you gasp and say,
Oh, I bet that crumbling mill town was a booming mill town in its day,
And the old investors scoff at this, but the young ones hope they'll take a chance,
And they promise it will make more dough than Mickey Mouse in northern France,
And the planners planned an opening day, a town historian will host,
And the waitresses look like waitresses who want to leave for the west coast.

And they'll have puttering on rainy weekends, autumn days that make you feel sad,
They'll have hundred year old plumbing and the family you never had,
And a Hudson River clean-up concert and a bundle-bearing stork,
And I hear they've got a menu planned, it's trés western New York.