Water Bugs. Period.

I almost died yesterday.

No, it wasn’t a errant cab running a light or anything having to do with NYC crime. No, no. It was an entirely different entity pertaining to this fabulous city of ours. It was a water bug.
Yes, a water bug nearly gave me a heart attack yesterday. It very nearly killed me.

If there is one thing above all else in this world that freezes me with fear, sends me into fits of shrieking, draws forth sweat from my pores – it’s water bugs.

The weatherman was wrong, per usual, and it was shaping up to be a lovely afternoon, I thought, as I walked home for lunch. The sun was shining and my 4th floor apartment was very warm, per usual. I had forgotten in the blissful cold climate of this past winter and spring that, when it warms up, the water bugs run rampant.

I made myself a lovely salad (no thank you bathing suit season!) and while I was doing the dishes I noticed something rather large on the floor in front of my chopping block. Thinking it was a piece of lettuce, I stooped to pick it up.

Holy.

Shit.

Immediately I started squealing, screaming, panting, panicking. IT WAS A HUGE (three inches), DISGUSTING, WATER BUG. Wretched, repulsive, revolting creatures. NYC water bugs are mutant, they’re terrifying, horrific, and abominably hideous. I have waterbugaphobia for sure.

Why do they have to be so big? Why do their antennae have to be so long? And so squirmy? Gross little feelers! Why are they so fast? Why are they SO UGLY? Especially the New York ones. Oh, maybe because they live in the sewers, eating garbage and sludge and filth, which turns them mutant, like those Italian renaissance turts.

Ugh, and they're indestructible, like rats! If a bomb were to detonate in this city, those are the only two creatures that would undoubtedly survive.

Thankfully (as if I could be grateful for anything in this situation…though I suppose it could have been worse), it was flopped over on its back, ¾ dead (yes that is indeed the actual bug itself below...apologies that the pic didn't come out that great, I couldn't exactly look at it as I was trying to take it!)

I paced around for approximately four-and-a-half minutes, staring at the floor, perspiration dampening my every pore. I took a hanger and a magazine, ten deep breaths, and tried to scoop up the god forsaken bug.

Of course, it writhed. It just haaaad to writhe. As if its presence wasn’t scary enough, it had to MOVE. Its antennae flopped around like Cooper’s tail. Obviously this made me even more terrified. I contemplated calling my super. Asking my neighbor. Calling my parents. Crying.

“You’re a grown woman, you can do this,” I chanted to myself over and over. I took ten more deep breaths and again went in for the scoop. For the second time, my efforts were rebutted. Those antennae. Those legs! Countless, crunchy, creepy-crawler legs wriggling in rhythm. Ugh.

I packed my bag and got ready to leave. I took the garbage can from under the sink and placed it right near the scene of the crime. I wanted to be ready to bolt. 1…2…3. No dice. 4…5…6. Come on Katie! 7…8…annnd I went for it. Screaming like a maniac, I went for it. I shoveled it onto the magazine, into the garbage, ran down the stairs, and dumped the bag in the trash.
Needless to say, the second I got home last night I swept and scrubbed and set traps in every corner of my apartment. I'd gas it myself if I wasn't so afraid of being poisoned.
Disgusting.