My stomach, at some point during the night, finally managed to stop engaging in a rigorous routine of calisthenics and rest for awhile, allowing me to get some much needed sleep. It was the night before I’d be speaking in front of 300 people. Not a huge deal, normally, considering how I’ve sang Like a Virgin in front of a crowd of 800 – but my nerves had taken the best of me given the severe flu I’d been hit with earlier in the week. A variant of H1N1, the emergency room doctor had told me the night before.
I was unaware it had started mutating.
I awoke around 10 am. I had to be at the theatre at 12:30 pm. And my eyebrows still required taming. Amongst several other things. Before I had entirely left my bed, I had my version of the mandatory morning coffee – checked the news updates, twitter, facebook. Things seemed in order. It was 10:30 and time for the personal hygiene, which had been completely ignored for a week, to be taken care of. I stumbled out of bed, had a cough attack, grabbed my bath towel and made my way to the washroom.
I reached inside to flick on the lights, when all of a sudden something flew quickly in front my face. Given that bugs, of all sorts, are a great source of fear for me, I screamed and ducked, unaware of what just had happened. I looked around when I saw a dark, plump circle crawling around on the inside of the sink before me.
It was a lady-bug.
I shivered. Lady-bugs aren’t creepy, really, but memory of a recent story of a friend’s room being infested by a swarm of them triggered a breeze of concern through me. I looked at it. It just was sitting there. It’s head would slightly pop out and it would move its little antennas to sense its overwhelming ceramic white surroundings. I didn’t have time for the spotted bitch, truth be told. I had a face to wash and some teeth to brush. Lady-bug or no lady-bug.
But you can’t just kill a lady-bug. It’s like killing a senile grandmother who’s squatting in your home – the situation seems wrong, but you know that she didn’t know better and that killing her off would only ensue in lifelong guilt. Not the day I was looking for to feel guilty.
So, terrified of coming into actual contact with this other woman occupying my washroom, I grabbed a piece of paper and tried to get her to walk onto it, so I could move her elsewhere. Stubborn, she wouldn’t budge. And I wouldn’t try harder as I was terrified of her flying into my face. We were both clearly being irrational here.
I sighed, and proceeded to take my shower, thinking that the noise and steam would scare her off, out of the sink.
Half an hour later, I emerged from the wonderful shower only to find that she was still there. What a bugger. No pun intended.
I decided I would scare her by trying to drown her. If that didn’t work, then I didn’t know what would. I turned the tap on slowly, so not to overwhelm the creature. The water, thanks to God or grime, spread everywhere except the area where the ladybug had settled herself. It went around her and she remained, quietly, barely moving. I sighed again, reached for my toothpaste and brush and cleaned my teeth in the bathtub. The things one must do in times of most desperation!
Time was running out, and I forgot about the lady-bug’s stubborn nuisance. I quickly ironed, dressed and caked-up. One last look in the bathroom mirror was accompanied by a quick smirk at the lady who remained settled in the sink. Chuckling to myself, I left.
Eight hours later, I returned. Completely worn out and exhausted, I went into the washroom to clean up before having dinner.
Lo behold, the wench was still there. I laughed. She had not moved and didn’t seem as though she was planning on doing so for awhile.
It struck me – was she dead? I decided the water trick again, to frighten/awaken her. This time God and/or grime weren’t as generous as before, and the water overtook the red lady. Mortified, I quickly turned the tap off. My eyes and heart both leapt out of their respective abodes – did I just kill a defenseless creature?
She must have heard my silent horror because she began moving around, quickly, and all over the place.
Thank god. She was alive and fully awake now.
I washed up in the bathtub and awaited the arrival of my roommate, who I knew would take care of the situation better than I ever could. And she did.
After hearing my story regarding the red bug, she gave me a look. She walked over to the sink and grabbed the lady gently with her hands and took it over to our balcony, where she let her free.
I went into the washroom, and did my ablutions. A sadness filled me upon seeing the absence of the bright red plump circle that had made itself comfortable in my sink for the entire day. We had built a sort of relationship throughout the day and a comfort level built on the discomfort of the other’s presence. It was weird, but it was something.
I really need to stop being single.