It was about halfway through my second week here when I realized that I had a couple room mates. They were never messy, only noisy occasionally at night, never used any utilities, kept to themselves, and performed excellent maintenance. Essentially they had all the ever elusive traits that one looks for when scoping out the perfect room mate on craigslist, right before spending the year with a psychopath that “seemed so nice at first” Who are they you ask? Well I named one Chi and the other Chak. And then we performed a ritual familiar to every college female. We took some cute roomie pics together!
(Ermagawd I kinda think I look fat in the second one…but I put it up because chi looks ahmazing in it and what can I say? I’m suchhh a good friend)
I was sitting in my room working on another assignment late into the night when I noticed something large and dark scurrying across my wall at a pace that I immediately related to the movie Arachnophobia. Heart palpitating, hyperventilating, fearing for my life, I scrambled backwards in my bed until my back hit my saran wrapped yellowing headboard from the 70’s. I turned around suddenly, (that thing never fails to disgust me) then snapped my attention back to the fact that something very fast that adheres to walls was hiding behind my mini-fridge. Considering the combination of those two traits, I weighed my chances of survival against such an adversary. The scale was not tipping in my favor. However, staring boldly in the face of danger is my thing so I took my chances and moved my mini fridge away from the wall in stealth like slow motion that James Cameron would envy. It was then that I discovered the existence of my new room mate and wordlessly extended my deepest gratitude to it for not being a tarantula or a scorpion.
I now have two known chichaks in my cohabitation. One is a little baby chichak (cuteness level 7) that I found in my shower and the other one is full grown and about 5 inches. I call them room mates because no matter how hard I try to turn them into pets they’re unreasonably disinterested in exuberantly running to greet me when I come home from school and absolutely refuse to bring my slippers to me before I get out of bed despite my best efforts.
However, despite their shortcomings in these areas: if there ever was an animal worthy of exaltation, songs to be sung and monuments to be erected in it’s honor; it would be the noble chichak. Their favorite food happens to be fresh mosquito, they also indulge in the occasional gnat and termite. Needless to say they won my affections immediately and I have not had any major mosquito attacks since I noticed them. Their name is an onomatopeoia which is a concept that I think English really dropped the ball on. (How great would it be to officially call cows moomoos to actual people and not just toddlers?) Now I go to sleep being serenaded by the song of the chichak: chichakchichichichak which is obviously a battle cry daring mosquitos to step forth and meet their inevitable doom. It is a soothing lullaby reminding me that nature does indeed have some mercy in the form of the humble, wonderful chichak.