Me vs. the Cockroach



Me vs. the Cockroach


 I have to say that cockroaches are a daily occurrence in these parts. You can see them scuttling across the sidewalks or legs-side-up on the stairs. We have tried so many methods to evict them from our apartment, yet they always leave something behind–their exoskeletons, a nest, a lone survivor scampering.

I don't doubt that they will far outlive us. They are incredibly resilient and make homes out of anything, anywhere. They are the past and future of this planet.

Just recently I found one in my purse. Actually, it was the second time one had taken refuge there, but I'm not sure it was the same roach. I imagine it crawled into my purse because I often leave my bags on the floor. I have to applaud this insect on its ingeniousness. Would I have thought that a pocket in a purse could double as a hiding place?

Of course, that wasn't my first thought upon meeting the roach. Wonderment set in after the screaming and tarantella-type dance had died down.

As I said, I am used to bumping into cockroaches, but it's one thing on the street and quite another to put my hand in my purse and touch something cool yet quite alive. I started shouting and twirling around. Then I felt little legs tickling my skin....ah, the panic!

"Get it off, get it off!" I called out. But there was no one to save me.

And that's where our dance began. I threw down the purse, dumping out all the contents, emptying all the pockets. But no cockroach. Then, a chilling thought came...what if it's...on me? I quickly scanned my skirt, my top, inside my shoes...nothing.I gathered my courage and stood in front of my bedroom mirror. There it was, clutching onto the strap of my tank top.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the first thing I saw (a pen) to try and flick it off. But no–it held on even harder and snuck under my strap. "What if it goes under my shirt, onto my skin?" I thought.

It was utter panic for the both of us. The roach scampered away after I released its hold and I followed it with a broom. Then, it took hold of a chair and scooted up one of its legs.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

I grabbed the chair and put it down outside of the main door, but the cockroach deftly hopped off and scurried back into the house and behind the shoe rack.

I dragged the chair back in and closed the door, defeated.

As I contemplated my next move, the insect scuttled across my vision once again. Hope gave me strength and I swept at it. It hung onto the brush for dear life. I swung open the door and batted the broom on the floor. It hopped off and we stared at each other. I hurried back into my apartment and slammed the door.

Panting, I leaned against the broom. I giggled as I heard my heart racing. I was glad the roach was alive, just not in my apartment.

Cockroach: 0 Me: 1


Photo: <a href="https://pixabay.com/es/users/jamesdemers-3416/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=54584">JamesDeMers</a> en <a href="https://pixabay.com/es//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=54584">Pixabay</a>


Text: kristen Mastromarchi

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