Not long after my first battle, I encountered another beetle… Only this time, it was on the wall in my room. It was terrifying.
I hate when bugs are in my house in general, but when they’re on a wall, I feel like they have an advantage.
Of course, I didn’t notice it until I was in bed. My light was on, and I caught a glimpse of it. For about 30 minutes, I paced back and forth with a broom, hoping I could somehow work up the courage to knock it down. I felt sweaty and stiff. No part of me was ready for it.
I finally swatted the broom in the bug’s direction. At first, I thought I killed it, but then it hit my leg – I wasn’t sure if it flew into my leg, or if my small fan launched it towards me. I let out a squeal, and jumped on top of my bed. I figured it had to be under there, but I didn’t want to check. Who knew? Maybe it would be right at the edge, waiting for me to look for it so it could jump on my face. That was my thought.
I somehow worked up the courage to shine my phone flashlight under there to check for it. I couldn’t see anything that resembled the beetle, much to my mixed feelings of relief and terror. I didn’t want to sleep knowing it might still be somewhere, but part of me was thankful I didn’t find it.
It was a while before I decided what to do, but I eventually crawled back into bed, the light still on, Netflix distracting me. Seconds later, I saw a black spot on the top of my comforter. The beetle was alive! This honestly made my a little teary (terrible, I know), but at least it was off the wall. I had a chance. I grabbed the largest book I could find off my shelf, held it above my head, and swung. Almost. It went more along the lines of me “almost swinging” the book for five or more attempts. I wanted to sleep, and I definitely wasn’t going to be able to as long as the beetle was there.