Notre ami, le cancrelat

Today has been a day of learning new things. How to use the laundrette (easier than anticipated). That Belgian waiters are not the most polite and friendly (pretty much anticipated). That our room may not have an internet connection or a phone or a key to the bike shed, letter box and rubbish cupboard or a window that opens properly or a cooker or a shower that works properly, but what it lacks in everyday essentials, it makes up for in bugs.
"But Amanda, you have mentioned the Flying Menace before! This isn't blogworthy news!" I expect you may or may not be thinking right now. Yes, that's true. I have. Thank you for paying attention thus far. And it might offer you some closure to know that I did stalk that little bastard down, and I splatted him. But no, there's another bug. Or there was. I'm getting ahead of myself...

Picture the scene. We're sitting watching a film (Drillbit Taylor - even Owen Wilson couldn't make it worth a watch. And yet the whole way through it seemed familiar. Could it be that I'd actually watched it once and been so bored by it that I managed to erase it entirely from my memory? Apparently so. Apatow - I just don't get the appeal. But that isn't the point) and (possibly thanks to my new glasses) I see a something - wait, that's not right. More emphasis - I see a something scuttling across the floor. It stops, as though aware I've noticed it, and in return I gasp, and grab Ben's arm.
"Ben - ohmigodohmigodohmigod - is that (horrified pause) ?!"
Ben looks over, grabs my slipper and thwacks it down on something that ISN'T EVEN THE THING I'M POINTING AT. He looks pleased with himself but by now I'm beyond words. I just waggle my finger frantically at the something now and make squeaky noises.
I should say, by the by - I'm not ordinarily the kind of girl who will jump up and down and/or faint at something creepy or crawly. I let spiders out - even big ones. I'll grab a moth in my hands and open a window for it. If a cricket jumps on me, I'll admire its long legs and big old antenna and then shoo calmly it away. In fact, I was once cleaning a friend's kitchen and discovered a mouse under the sink, but I didn't panic. I did try to keep it as a pet, but that just backs up my point. I'm not squeamish, not really. There are only two insect-types I can't bear - centipedes and millipedes. Gahk. But usually, I'm the kind of girl that can handle bugs.
Back to the story. Just as Ben sits back on the sofa, the bug makes a break for it, and Ben, to give him his due, is up like a shot and thwacks it twice for good measure with my poor slipper. I look at him with wide eyes, hardly daring to ask.
"Was it... was it a...?"
He looks at me and confirms my fears.
"Cockroach."
I did what any normal person would do (Ben, apparently, is not normal, choosing rather to be level headed and all come-on-let's-sort-this-out. Boring). I stood in the middle of the room and flapped my arms whilst jumping round in a circle with my eyes closesd, squealing "EWWWWWWWW!!!" rather louder than I probably should in this densely populated apartment block. If there had been a chair that looked sturdy enough, I would have been up there with my slippers, clutching at my skirt and shouting "Thaaaaaaaaamas!" until Ben told me to stop being silly and get down. As it was he just sat down calmly and said
"You're in the way of the TV."
I joined him hesitantly and watched the final chapter of Drillbit Taylor (I don't want to spoil things for you, so if you haven't seen it, make a mental note here and now to NEVER EVER WATCH IT) but all the while my brain was saying
"Cockroachcockroach ohmigodohmigod cockroach wheredotheylive ohmigod DOTHEYLIVEUNDERTHEBED gahkgahk calmdowncalmdown MYLEGISTICKLINGME!!! THERE'SASOMETHINGONMYLEG!! nonoit'snothing calmdowncalmdown" and so on and so forth. After the final scene of the film (unrealistic but unsurprising) Ben got up and searched for "Cockroach" on Google. Turns out they like damp areas, which means that - thank goodness - under the bed was not a likely possibility. I made Ben check anyway. Devoid of cockroaches. But under the sink - the drain there is leaking and we've generally avoided the whole area because it's, well, gross. So Ben did the manly thing and clingfilmed it all up so no cockroach can gain access to the flat anymore. From there, anyway. Unfortunately, I had seen it scuttling from another direction, which means that it probably came from under the door. This is good as it means we do not have to share bedspace with any cockaroaches, but bad as - actually, no that's not bad. Someone else can deal with it. So long as they don't read the same Wikipedia article we read, which mentions the best way to deal with a cockroach infestation. I quote, "The house centipede is probably the most effective control agent of cockroaches, though many homeowners find the centipedes themselves objectionable." Yeah, you click on that link. (Open it in a new tab, you don't want to go navigating away now). But you click on that link and you look at what they are RECOMMENDING people to INSTALL IN THEIR HOUSES. That's right. Creepy looking CENTIPEDES who are so mean they actually PREY ON OTHER BUGS. That's like saying, there's a small candle burning in the living room, I know, I'll flood the house.

So. Cockroaches. Yeah, we are livin' the high life.