Yeeech

Rain, rain, rain...and with it, a most unwelcome visitor: cockroaches. Since we moved to our apartment, these harbingers of filth have multiplied in size. In 2006, they were little babies, easily squashed and subsequently flushed down the toilet with nary a second thought; in 2009, they grew to medium-sized suckers that scuttled over the floor, requiring more dexterity (and a rolled up newspaper) to squish; today, they are frighteningly big and capable of flight. And smart, menacing even.

So one of these, the mother of all roaches (or MoaR, a well deserved title), recently took up residence in one of the bathrooms and terrorized us for a couple weeks, darting under the shower stall late at night whenever someone would switch on the light in the room. The cat refused to get involved in its demise, sauntering out of the bathroom looking for something more interesting (and safe) to do.

One night the MoaR was hanging out by the faucet in the sink, and it crawled up M's arm when he turned on the water in the dark. Shrieks ensued, and the roach zipped back to its lair under the shower stall. M proceeded to spray the area with Baygon. A little while later, the roach was on its back, frantically kicking its legs in the air. Presuming it was on its death bed, M tossed it into the trash can, slammed the lid. The next day, I opened the lid to throw away a tissue and the MoaR was very much alive and attempted to escape immediately. Asked M to finish it off. Tentatively opening the lid, M peered in and the MoaR flew out. It managed to land on and scamper up M's arm again (poor man) before jumping into the sink where it got smashed by a magazine. Heart-pounding, we felt relieved the ordeal was over. Until the next one appeared.

This one hitched a ride on M's leg and made it outside the bathroom to the kitchen, where it is still at large. *Shudder*