Most. Traumatic. Experience. Ever.

I am not one to exaggerate, so take the title of this post as gospel. This event was so traumatic that it occurred on Monday and I'm only just now able to talk about it...

I share an office at work. There's my side and Deb's side with a wall down the middle. I rolled my chair into Deb's side and I was working at the student computer. We were importing data into the database and it's just easier to work right next to each other rather than repeatedly calling or getting up and walking back and forth. Some call it laziness. I call it efficiency.

So there I am typing away when I feel a static cling feeling in the left leg of my pants. This is a common thing with this particular pair of pants, so I thought nothing of it. It was just that annoying static cling feeling. I remembered that a woman I work with had a can of Static Guard in her office and thought that I should borrow it.

Fifteen or so minutes passed and I needed something from my desk and went to get it. Since I had moved my chair to Deb's side of the office, I just knelt on the floor in front of my computer to look for something when I felt that nagging static cling feeling again, but now at about hip level of my right leg. Again, I shook the fabric of my pants, which only makes static cling worse, but I did it anyway. It did not subside. So I stood up and stomped my foot on the ground several times in a futile attempt to alleviate the static cling. Stomping on the floor also did not shake the static cling away, but it did shake something else free...

As I looked down to the floor, a 2 1/2 inch roach fell out of the leg of my pants! It wasn't static cling after all...it was the only thing on earth that will survive a nuclear holocaust.

Yep. That's him.

Now, mind you, this wasn't a mere 20 or 30 seconds between left leg static cling and right leg static cling. It was 15 or 20 minutes that he was roaming around in there exploring! I've included a roach road map to give you an idea of just how far Mr. Roach travelled.

I'm sure you're asking...Did you scream? Did you go home? Did you die? The answer to all three questions is no. I did not scream like a schoolgirl or the figure in the Munch painting. However, after stomping the creature into oblivion, I backed away, pointed at the carcass and said, "Deb...that thing just fell out of my pants!" Her response..."I'm putting my shoes back on!" No concern at all for my welfare. I then retreated to the bathroom to shake out my pants just in case Mr. Roach had a friend with him on the road trip. To my knowledge, he did not.

Since then, each time I've retold my story of eternal horror, it has been met with the same horrified "I would have died" reaction quickly followed by extreme laughter at my expense. Maybe, after many years of therapy, I'll recover. Until then, I'm investing in RAID and roach motels. Interestingly enough, when the exterminator came on Tuesday, he said it wasn't a roach after all - he said that what everyone thinks is a roach, is really a water bug. Whatever, dude. Roach or water bug...IT WAS IN MY EFFING PANTS!