Attacked in the Night (sort of)

You know how you mention how something is one way, and then it changes? Like when you’re at work, never say “Man, it’s slow today.” Right? Three days ago Matthew and I were gushing about how good the electricity has been: nearly three weeks without a single outage! Well, the past three days have included outages. Just a few hours (like, seven) so nothing to complain about here in Congo, but still…Murphy’s Law. We don’t believe in luck, bad or good, but sometimes the irony makes you smile…or not.
So yesterday we were gushing about how we haven’t seen a cockroach in the house for weeks.
Oops.
Last night I awakened to a tickle across my neck and down my arm. I assumed my hair was misplaced and picked my head up to stuff it back onto my pillow. As I was doing this, Matthew wakes and starts sweeping the top of his chest with his hand.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“Oh, just a tickle on me.”
I instantly was wide awake and sitting up, even before I could think.
“No no, it was a dream or in my head or something. I’m sure of it. Go back to sleep.”
I reasoned that I was sure mine was my hair. I began to lay back down, making sure my hair is all above my head, and Matthew rolls away to the other side. Just as he settles…
“Um.” The most loaded “um” you’ve ever heard in. your. life.
I was sitting up again, cringing, and stupidly asked “What…”
Somehow this amazing man I married is calm. He calmly said to me “Turn around.” So I quickly faced the other direction. I hear a bit of shuffling of bedding.
“Get out of bed.” I quickly slipped under the mosquito netting and am by the doorway to the room. I am kicking myself, hard, for not grabbing my glasses. I am nearly blind without them, so I am in the dark and practically blind. I look into the fuzzy shadow and see Matthew maneuvering around the bed.
“Turn on the light and leave the room.” Switch flipped and I’m gone. I creep into the dark living room, with light streaming from around the yard enough to allow me to see. I childishly avoid the black tiles and only step on the white ones. I can see just enough definition to see something large and black on the white tiles if I need to. So far, the living room seems safe.
I hear the bug spray. The smell of Baygone will probably be one of my biggest memories of Africa.
After just a minute all is quiet and Matthew steps into the hallway and motions to me. However, I can’t see his hand without my glasses. Not knowing whether it was a thumbs up or a wait-right-there, I wait. Then, he steps into the bathroom. I waited a few minutes then cowered to join him as he washed his hands. I ask him how it’s going. He says there is nothing to worry about. I ask several more stupid questions. Everything is fine, he calmly assures me.
We creep back into bed, with the light still on. I do a thorough search of the covers, including the flapping of myself to get the tickle away. I tell Matthew that I can’t easily go back to sleep, got a book, and settled in. He is so manly, that he fell instantly asleep.
Needless to say, my sleep the rest of the night was not so good. Every little movement woke me, which is a lot when you’re sleeping under a mosquito net with a ceiling fan on. Ugh.
And that is how we were attacked in the night.