A few times over the course of the last year, I have encountered a gigantic cockroach in my bathroom (don’t EVEN tell me where there is one, there are many…I just don’t want to hear it). Anyway, I got a big can of spray poison to have at-the-ready the next time the bastard showed his ugly face. Turns out that appearance was made last night. Without hesitation, I grabbed that can and ripped the lid off and started spraying like a mad woman. But he would.not.die! As he scurried to safety (or what he thought was safety), I followed his course with more of the toxic spray. From the sink to the floor to the shower curtain to the cabinet and finally the doorway. This is where things started to get ugly, and near the point where I actually started to cry. It flipped on its back and flailed around miserably for an eternity. It was like a train wreck in that while I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. Then I started to choke on the fumes of the spray and thought to myself “I hope this isn’t how the poor cockroach feels! Does the spray just cut off THEIR air supply?” People, I actually CRIED over the writhing death of a cockroach! When I could take it not one moment longer, I got the biggest handful of toilet paper I could hold, grabbed him, and flushed him away.
I honestly think I am scarred for life.
P.S. Thanks to Alwan for answering the phone and calming me down after it happened.