Moving out and bugs

You know your internal clock is fucked when you're happy to get off work "early" at 3am. Really, I should be going to bed instead of writing this, but you all know how I feel about conventional logic.

I have so much to do before Friday at 2pm when my plane leaves -- namely packing. I've also got to entertain Craig, since he's getting here at about 2pm on Thursday. Being in university, when I say "entertain" I don't mean to make ballon animals and pull quarters out of humorous places on his body -- I mean to drink. And herein lies the problem. I haven't seen Craig all summer, so the plan was that he was going to spend a night here on his way to visit Lesleyanne (the night before I go home) and we'd have a few drinks together. But I can tell you what it's going to turn into:

7AM Thursday: Get home from last "day" of work and go to bed.
2PM: Craig arrives, wakes me up, and we start drinking.
2PM - 4PM: Drink and pack.
4PM - 5PM: Now thoroughly loaded, both take bus down to Ace Electronics to pick up my repaired camcorder.
5PM - ?: Resume drinking with spurs of intermittent packing until we fall asleep.
2PM Friday: Keeping with my aero-travel trend, wake up just about when my flight is leaving the airport.
2:05PM: Drown woes in booze.

Hopefully that doesn't happen, but who knows...

Let's see... what's been going on the last little while... Well, I've been going to the gym every day while simultaneously trying to finish off all of my food in the apartment. I'm eating so much crap! I don't know if these two activities cancel each other out or what, but I suppose it's a little like trying to fill an above-ground pool as you're shooting it with a 12-guage shotgun. Whatever.
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There are alot of bugs in our house. The worst ones are the skinny flying ones with the really long legs. You'd know one if you saw it. About two inches long; really slow. If I were to do an impression of it, I'd put my arms above my head as they'd be if I were about to pool-dive, then I'd repeatedly run into a wall. Over and over again. But each successive hit would be just a little bit to the left. Step forward-left, SMACK, step back, and repeat. And then every once in awhile, just to mix it up a bit, I'd decide to stop running into that wall. I'd turn around, then Superman run (with head down and arms parallel with floor, still in dive position) to the other side of the room, and continue my prior business on this new and exciting wall. Maybe this goes without saying, but: STUPIDEST BUG EVER.

I actually caught one by the wing a few days ago as it was taking a breather from all of its strenuous running-into-wall affairs. I ran into the bathroom with it, lifted the toilet seat, and threw it into the bowl. Then I pulled the flush handle, thinking that it'd go down the drain with the water.

Wrong. The thing was, it's huge disgusting long legs kept it from getting wet enough to stay in the toilet water. When I realized that it was coming back up out of the toilet, I started swatting it back. Thinking quick, I attempted to pull off some toilet paper with my left hand, all the while repeatedly swatting the bug back into the toilet bowl everytime it tried to escape. And all this time I thought I couldn't multitask!

I was determined to actually flush the bugger while it was still alive, so when I got the TP ripped off, I gave one last swat and tried to throw the toilet paper on top of the flying bug. I thought that it would land on the bug and drag it down into the water where it would be covered in wet paper-matter, rendering it flushable. But the fly proved cunning. He averted the descending toilet paper and attempted once again to rise out of his porceline confines. I quickly threw down the lid, wondering why I hadn't done this before.

So now the long-legged fly was buzzing around in the toilet, but I had no way to get it into the water. I tried cracking the toilet seat a few times to throw TP in, but it kept coming oh-so-close to escaping. Next, I remembered that we had a detachable shower-head on a hose... or rather, we had a detachable hose, sans shower-head... (maybe I'll explain that story later). I grabbed the hose off of it's hook, cracked the seat a bit, and threw the end into the dark interior. Then I cranked on the tap water. "Take that, bitch!" I thought to myself. I worked the hose around inside to make sure that I'd gotten the fucker completely wet. When I was satisfied, I flushed the toilet. As the flush-noise subsided and the refilling process began, I popped open the toilet lid, holding the running hose in one hand with the intention of turning it off right after.

Then the goddamn bejeezin bug thing, defying my ingenious plan and the law of wet-things-fall, started to fly the crap out of the toilet bowl. I impulsively tried to squirt it back in, but due to the concentrated spray of the hose, I succeeded only in soaking the area in the immediate vicinity of the toilet. As the fly rose above the rim of the toilet seat, I executed a no-look throw of the hose into the tub, and at the same time made a few final attempts to swat the bug back into the toilet. The hose landed in the tub and, since unsecured, started shooting water all over the place. As the cold water was propelled up the sides of the tub and onto the wall behind me, one of my rogue swats was miscalculated. I squished the bug against the rim of the toilet and it fell dead into the water.

Very unsatisfying.

On a postive note: By the time I got the bathroom cleaned up, the bug guts were pretty much gone off of my hand.