3. warfare and knowing when to give in How many times can you be watching TV and be interrupted by something triggering the hairs on your arm? Did you just put down an ice cream bowl? Were they waiting under the couch to mob it? I may never be able to have maple syrup in my house again. There is no safe place for cat food. Cinnamon sprinkled on every windowsill. Vinegar sprayed near the baseboards and all over the counters to scramble their trails. Borax and sugar laid out as bait. All food in plastic bags, glass jars, safely tucked in the fridge. And when that didn’t work, the chemical armada: Invict Xpress, Advance375 A, Intice Gelanimo. I lie on the couch and something tickles the top of my foot. I shake and kick but it holds on. I try to ignore it, but each of its six legs feather over my nerve endings. Winter settles. For a while, all is quiet and I think I will get a breather. Dormant, hibernating, the world hits pause. A moment to myself. I even make pancakes and the cat gets a can of wet food. On the TV, the weatherman talks about the Pineapple Express, a wave of moist warmth, a long dark cloud, stretching from the tropics to the north Pacific coast. I fear the change in the weather. But for one week, nothing happens. I like long showers, especially opening my mouth and letting the water wash my tongue. My cat always scratches on the bathroom door, not because he likes showers, but because he doesn’t like to be alone. I step out from behind the curtain, walk to the vanity to comb my hair, and from the corner of my eye something creeps out from a crack in the wainscoting. I open a tube of toothpaste and try to plug the hole. I buy silicone and outline the windows and the floors and the walls. I try to get my corner of the apartment building ready like a hurricane is coming. I’ve run out of nails. I’ve run out of boards. I’ve run out of a lot of things. Is there another way? One day I go into the kitchen and unwrap the honey bear from its six layers of cling film, unscrew the lid, and squeeze. I smear honey over my cheeks, rub it down my arms, through my hair, between my toes. I settle myself down, prostrate in the middle of the floor, limbs spread out like a starfish.
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raleigh review