Cock-a-la-roach

I have a moral dilemma of sorts going on right now as to whether I should tell my wife something or not. Before I get to the dilemma, I should give a little back story first. Last night Ashley and I attended a birthday party for a couple friends of ours. We were having a good time, but part way through the evening I became light-headed, broke out into a drenching sweat and went white in the face. It was apparent I didn't look so hot, and we left early to go home. I, of course, went right to bed while Ashley had to say goodnight to her true love - the stat counter for her blog - before she joined me.

If you've been reading this blog for a while now, then you already know Ashley's sleeping habits, and true to form she was out cold in a matter of seconds. I feel asleep too, but due to a migraine headache that had come on, I kept waking up every so often to make sure the ceiling was still in place. During one of those 'ceiling checks' I happened to look up at the exposed brick wall on Ashley's side of the bed where I saw through the glow of our nightlights, the impetus for my dilemma.

Perched on the wall sat a large two and a half-inch long cockroach, looking down on us as if to say, "sleep well, Ron, and comfort yourself with the thought I could have pounced on you in your state of slumber, but I - the Cock-a-la-roach, am a merciful bug and I extend that mercy to you." Needless to say, I wasn't about to return the favor. In the world of things I dislike about nature, cockroaches and rats run neck and neck for top honors.

That said, my condundrum was a matter of what to do about the situation. If I tried to kill it, based on it's position on the wall, the angle of trajectory and the current wind speed the bug would land dead center in Ashley's hair. Should I miss, there was also a better than average chance it would still be alive when it landed, and even though the topic never came up in our pre-marriage counseling, I'm pretty sure I know how Ashley feels about roaches.

A few weeks ago, a roach crawled up Ashley's leg as she sat at the computer. When I informed her their was a roach on her she thought I was joking, but the look on my face convinced her otherwise which after a second or two of realization she went into a flailing fit in the attempt to dislodging the bug from her person. Based on that scenario, having a roach - dead or alive - land on your face as you slept would likely illicit a worse reaction.

Still focusing on the roach, I reviewed all the possible scenarios. Best case would be to shoot it with a silenced handgun which would kill the bug without it falling on her face, and I could stay in bed and she'd never know a thing. That option was out for obvious reasons (I don't own a gun big enough to kill roaches), so I was left with A) killing the roach with my shoe with the hope it wouldn't fall on her face, B) letting it live with the hope it wouldn't fall on her face, or C) gently waking Ashley up and asking her to roll to my side of the bed while I pound the tar out of a very large bug.

Each of the choices had their pros and cons and I gave them equal consideration, however, as I lay their thinking, my "little" friend started to move... down the wall. One of the things I hate most about roaches is their abulatory skills. When they are in casual mode they have a back-and-forth jerking motion that reminds me of a large delivery truck attempting a three-point turn on a narrow neighborhood street. The other style of movement is that sickening and cowardly scurry they use when trying to get away. I can almost hear them plead, "Don't hit me, no, no, no, please don't hit me." as they run underneath a chair, or cabinet or something.

Whatever the actual right choice would have been, the fact that the roach was getting closer meant I needed to do something. Crawling out of bed I grabbed my shoe, and walked like the cockroach-killing ninja I am, around to Ashley's side of the bed. I searched the wall for my target. It was gone. Even still, I figured if I waited for a moment it would reappear.

Standing there, my shoe at the ready and poised to strike, I started to chuckle at the idea of Ashley waking up to find her new husband standing over while holding a shoe like a baseball bat.

I'm trying to kill a cockroach, Honey.

Oh, ya, right! I could hear her say, You're trying to kill me aren't you? I knew I shoud've run a background check on you.

No, no. For real, there's a huge roach that just crawled down the wall towards the bed.

What?! Don't just stand there; kill it!

I'm always cooking up little day dreams like that (that's what ADD does to a person), and as such I lost focus on the bug and it must have gotten away. Disappointed, I put my shoe back and crawled into bed. As I reclaimed the covers, Ashley woke up and looked at me. Are you feeling better, Sweetie?

Uh, Ya, Honey. I just have a dull headache keeping me up.

Oh, Poor baby. Then she offered to turn out the nightlights.

Uh, No, I said realizing I needed them on in case my buddy reappeared, that's ok, Honey. Just need some sleep is all. Ash, of course, was sawing redwoods before I even finished my sentence.

The real dilemma I am currently in, has been whether I would tell Ashley about it in the morning? If I told her in the middle of the night, she'd freak out and I'd get no peace until the roach was eliminated. Should I tell her the next day, I would be faced with the same prospect. So what's the answer? I guess she's finding this out the same way you all are.