Glass and Knives and ....Cockroaches?

My Dad called last night to tell me that Aunt Dicie has been released from her nursing home/rehab center. She is in her 90's and has no kids of her own. (Aunt Dicie is my PaPa's older sister.) Anyway, she can't go home until it's been cleaned out.

You see, Aunt Dicie is a dumpster diving pack rat. I would say that she's a compulsive hoarder but she's way too generous. She goes through the dumpsters and gets out toys, clothes, furniture, kitchen stuff, you name it. She cleans it up, packs it into boxes and tries to give it away. It's like a ministry. My kids love her. She's always giving them toys. Problem is, she can't give it away as fast as she gets it. Thus, a trailer FULL of boxes which she can't get around in in a walker or wheelchair. It had to be cleaned out. So Dad called Kim and I, since we have so much experience in cleaning up after compulsive 'gatherers'.

She's been away for about 3 months after a really nasty fall. While, her kitchen has become completely infested with roaches and silver fish. (Now as you read on, keep in mind that Aunt Dicie was in the living room, sitting with her back to the kitchen.) We cleaned out the living room in about 30 minutes. But the kitchen... eewww. As we picked up one item, we'd have to shake the roach off of it. We tried to do this quietly because we didn't want to embarrass Aunt Dicie. The boxes got a good kick and shake before they were moved. But in one case they just clung to the bottom of the box. As I turned toward the front door and took a couple of steps they decided to make a break for it, all 20 of them, up the sides of the box.... in my hands. I then executed the very difficult and yet beautifully funny "drop-the-box-shake-all-over-and-try-to-scream-silently" dance. I am an expert in this form of dance.

Kim's prayer life was a sight to behold. Periodically she would stop, shake her arms about and quietly pray "Help me, Jesus. Help me, Jesus. Help me, Jesus."

The interesting thing about roaches is that when disturbed from their current station, they run directly for the closest thing... no matter how crowded with its relatives it may be. And as long as they weren't running up my legs, I was good with that. Until the last three boxes. It was to these remaining three boxes that all the other roaches had run. So when Kim tried to pick up a basket that was sitting on top, about a hundred roaches tried to make a break for it.

At this point, from my perch on my sister's head, my prayer life improved also. We were running in place, silently screaming, praying, waving our arms around and basically trying to crawl out of our skin to safety.

Ellas comes into the kitchen and witnesses the Running Of The Roaches. Of course, being Ellas, he thinks this is pretty neat. Kim says sweetly, in a pinched voice about three octaves too high, "Ellas, out of the kitchen! Out. Get out of the house." She's trying not to let Aunt Dicie know what's going on. Ellas takes a few steps towards the living room, "Why?" Kim's response was pretty calm and slick, considering that I was still perched on her head praying, "Because there's glass and knives..." And as Ellas starts to pass Aunt Dicie's chair, he adds, "And cock roaches!"

I thought it was hilarious. Here we were suffering, trying not to let her know she had a roach problem and Ellas just blurts it out. Thanks, Ellas!

We never did get the last three boxes out. We had run out of hefty bags. Dad has to go back and do it. So if you see a man being carried away on the backs of several hundred roaches, give me a call.