You Can't Blame All Your Problems On A Cockroach

My full name for the record? Dana D'Angelo.

Wait, you probably want my middle name, too. It’s Rosalina. Dana Rosalina D’Angelo. Rosalina is my Nonna's name. But Dana is just fine. Don't need to be so formal. Okay, maybe you do, but still.

What happened on the 17th?

Well, I really should start back at an incident when I was nine years old. You see, I had quite a traumatic thing happen to me. I was in the backyard, about to tuck into a sandwich and a cockroach crawled right up my side, on my arm and onto my sandwich. I was already about to bite and the cockroach was in the way and crunch – I bit into the cockroach. I almost immediately threw up my lunch and here’s the kicker – the back half of the cockroach was still wriggling around on my sandwich, so my dad was just violently stamping on it while I was chucking my guts up.

Would I call it a cockroach phobia? Well, maybe. I don’t know if it’s a phobia exactly. Phobias are irrational fears, I think my fear is rational and appropriate. They would kill us all if they were able to.

Yes, okay, the 17th.

Actually, I should probably mention that when I was fifteen, I was concussed while playing cricket. I was at the non-striker's end and the batter just smashed a ball straight and it got me right in the side of the head. I did not play much cricket after that. Not because I was injured or scared, I was just rubbish at it. Maybe that was a good thing, I hit my head enough as it is.

What's with the sour look?

If you wanted me to cut to the chase, why didn't you just say so?

So, on the 17th, it all started in my attic. Mum called and asked about some old photos I had. She wanted them scanned and ‘in the clouds’ as she calls it, so I went up to find them. I picked up a box of photos and unearthed this huge fuck-off cockroach. Sorry, shouldn’t swear, this is official and all that. Anyway, it was like the size of my palm, which I think is big for a cockroach. Anyway, I freaked out. You know, childhood trauma and all that. The thing ran past me and went down the ladder. I jumped when it went past and hit my head. I think it gave me a concussion. I think that because of my previous history of concussion, I may have felt the effects of that blow to the head more. I recently read this super interesting artic-

Yes, fine, I’ll get back on track.

I went down, I really wanted to kill this bug. Face my fears and smoosh its fucking - sorry – stupid face. I ran after it but it was so fast. How was it so fast? Maybe more legs equals more speed, I don’t know. Then I decided to go get some Mortein bug spray from the laundry and chase it while spraying it everywhere. I gotta tell you, not a great idea. Kept getting it in my eyes. Hey, wanna know a fun fact about me? Yes, it’s relevant. Anyhoo, I love me some scented candles. Always got one or two going. You know what doesn’t go well with scented candles?

You’re no fun, you know that. It’s Mortein. No good with fire. Basically created a flamethrower by accident. Set some of the living room on fire. I saw that it was raining and windy outside so I put down the Mortein and decided to open the windows to help put the fire out. I think that the concussion clouded my thinking. That said, it kind of worked, but I kind of definitely set my sleeve on fire. Then that motherfuc- goddamned cockroach ran up my leg. How did it not get set on fire? Stupid indestructible little shit. Sorry. I stopped, dropped and rolled, which last time I checked was still valid advice. Also, I thought I could squish that bug while I was at it. I put myself out, then I went and got a jug of water to put out the last of the curtain fire. I was in the clear. The living room was trashed but I was okay. Then I basically passed out on the couch. Wouldn’t you? I was rudely awakened though. Wanna guess how?

Yes, the cockroach, but I don't like the tone you said it with. It was just right on my face. Made me freak the fuc- freak out. Made the candle on the dresser, which somehow stayed lit, go flying. Right into that can of Mortein, which, in the chaos, I had placed on the radiator. Which was on.

You know, I think action movies have lied to us. I mean, of course they do, they are pieces of fiction and all that but – yes I am going somewhere with this – but one thing is that you can't dive away from an explosion and be okay, let alone casually walk away from one. I ran out the front door pretty quickly and dove to the ground and I got all messed up. Granted, I dove face-first into the driveway, so most of my explosion related injuries were because I broke my fall with my nose. And I got glass shards all in me. Sorry to be graphic but I shat out glass at the hospital.

So, to answer the big question – what was the reason for my house burning down – I place the blame firmly on that cockroach. Maybe it was slightly my fault. It's been raining all week so I didn't do the best job in applying the roach killer around the outside of my home. This should not be enough to prevent me from getting an insurance payout. This is what the cockroach wants. It wants to ruin me. Don't let it.