Its been a long time since I've lived alone. Last night I returned to my Parisian apartment and tried to settle in a bit. I went to take a shower and had to kill a spider in the bathroom. People who know me know how good I am at dealing with bugs.
While still trying to shake off the spider-killing, I walked into the main room and a HUGE flying bug had found its way in through the open window (no, there are no screens in this country, and no, I don't know why not). While trying to fan it towards the window, I must have gotten a bit too enthusiastic and hit it. It landed in the sink and flailed around. So I slapped the sink cover on the sink. I thought it would die by this morning. Well, that didn't work. Then I poured dish soap on it. Now I have a slimy huge bug in my sink (its way too big to go down the drain). GREAT. And then, as if that wasn't enough, I noticed a spider making a happy home in the fake plants outside on the window railing. I tried to douse it with water, but its already back up and making a new web. [[sigh]]
What gets to me about living alone isn't even necessarily killing the bugs. Its that no one comes home later and laughs with me about trying to drown the spider or congratulates me on taking out the huge flying thing. Instead its just me, just doing what needs to be done. Oh, and having a major cold while doing it. What the heck is Nyquil called in French? :-(