A couple of days ago I was in a shop, trying on a few dresses. Er, many dresses. And quite a few blouses. Basically I was trying to find something that fit and looked reasonably nice. (Since I've gained so much weight, my cleavage has become lethal.) Hence I found myself standing in one of my least favorite places in the world: a communal dressing room. Even worse, this communal dressing room was actually a tiny storeroom lined with mirrors. I managed to carve out a spot, hanging my dresses on the handle of a moving dolly.
At one point toward the end of this awkward process, I poked my head out of a shirt...and found myself staring at the ceiling, transfixed—by a giant effing roach. I considered screaming and running out into the store, half-clothed as I was. I reconsidered. I didn't want to start a panic in the dressing room. I stared at the roach. It was so big I thought, briefly, that it was a joke. It looked like one of those fake rubber cockroaches. But then I saw the feelers twitch just enough to confirm my fears. It was indeed real. I finished changing, barely taking my eyes off the roach long enough to check in the mirror to determine whether the shirt looked good or not. (It didn't.) I ducked my head and ran out, just in case the roach decided to choose that moment to go all Mission: Impossible and drop on me. (It didn't.)
Upon exiting, I found one of the employees and whispered to her, "Just so you know, there's a giant roach on the ceiling of the dressing room."
"A giant roach."
Her eyes widened. She grabbed another employee, and the two of them ventured into the dressing room. They both shrieked. Then they got caught in the curtain in the doorway and yanked down the curtain rod. Then they hollered for the one male employee in the store and made him dispatch with the roach.
All in all, it was a generally icky day.