We went to pick up a spot of dinner lateish tonight, at Lord's. Vicky and The Bhablet went to make the purchase while I got up on Ally's backseat and tried to figure out what was wrong with her passenger reading light. It used to be this dinky little thing that I used to read by when Baba-Ma went into shops and I had been forced to tag along but refused to get out of the car.
Allow me to digress slightly at this point to list what I was wearing:
Item: 1 red lycra Giordano t-shirt. If you know them you know they fit like a second skin -- the one underneath the skin you can touch and see and feel.
Item: 1 black vest-ish affair I wear under these t-shirts to feel less busty and more comfortable. (Wait, that was too much information for you, wasn't it? Sorry.)
Item: 1 red sari petticoat
Item: 1 floor-length crushed cotton skirt. The kind that has about 70 yards of fabric in it.
Item: 2 leather slippers, loose, one on either foot
Anyway, so I had my hands full of car-light parts when I felt something scratching me at the base of my back. The thing continued to poke even though I adjusted my position, so I inserted an impatient finger under the skirt and petticoat bands to push what I thought was a label away. Except that it was a cockroach. It took me a couple of seconds to register the fact and I acted upon it as soon as it did register.
I swear, it's been at least ten years since I moved so fast. Screeched, jumped out of car (on the traffic side) stomped around shaking my skirts and then took to jumping just to get the bloody thing out of the yards of cloth.
V came running, several interested taxi-wallahs looked on while I continued my Snakewoman Sue dance with vigor not to mention abandon. He made me stand still for all of three seconds after which I resumed my cat on a hot tin roof impersonation. Eventually the bloody thing did scamper out.
Did I mention I wasn't wearing panties?