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My friend messaged me on AIM this morning. 

[09:55] buggedout: i’m moving out
[09:57] frankNbeans: what happened?
[09:57] buggedout: i found two cockroaches
[09:57] frankNbeans: ewww
[09:57] buggedout: been crying all morning
[09:57] buggedout:
[09:57] frankNbeans: crying? why?
[09:57] frankNbeans: cause of the roaches?
[09:58] buggedout: COCKROACHES!
 

I found that particularly funny because this girl is so strong.  Physically, she couldn’t benchpress a qtip, but mentally, she’s probably as tough as they come.  Or so I thought.

Anyhow, that conversation reminded me of the time when I used to live with my mom and grandmother in Flushing.  The three of us lived in this tiny one bedroom apartment.  My mom and grandmother slept in the bedroom while I was lucky enough to have the living room all to myself.  Actually, it was more like a living kitchen.  Off to the side of the living room, within arm’s reach of my bed, was the stove, sink, fridge and of course, the trash.

Combined with the fact that the building was pretty old and run down, it was safe to say we had a shitload of roaches.  Ever see that movie Joe’s Apartment?  Our roaches didn’t sing or nothing, but yeah, it was pretty close. 

There were times when I’d wake up in the middle of the night and turn the light on and see dozens of roaches scattering.  Other times where I’d scratch my arm in my sleep because it was itchy only to feel the shiny smooth back of a roach that was just chillin there.  And there were even a couple of times when I’d put a shirt on and have a roach crawl out of my sleeves or collar.  Sometimes an hour or two later.

Yeah it’s gross, I know.  But back then, living like that was the only life I knew.  Nor did we even have the financial means to afford a better place.  At least I’m lucky enough to not have to worry about that anymore.

My friend… not so lucky.

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