There is a cockroach...waterbug...THING on my kitchen floor. I found it there at 4am when i couldn't sleep and went to the kitchen to do laundry. it was on it's back still wiggling it's wirey legs. I hate cockroaches or anything resembling them. Just last week I swore if I ever found a cockroach in my house I would move out.
Do you know how many other things I've sworn about?...
I'll never live in Texas.
I'll never work in a church.
I'll never get a dog.
I'm too afraid to say the rest of the list out loud...
The cockroach is still on the floor.
The deal with roommates has always been, you pick up the cockroach, i'll pick up the snake or spider or mouse or whatever. UGH. I have no roommate. She moved out last week. I have no boyfriend either which makes the situation even trickier. And with the price of gas now, no willing soul would drive over here to pick it up for me.
The little bug lived for a good two or three hours after I first found it. I felt just the tinsiest bit bad about that, but not enough to end it's life. Usually when I find wounded lizards the cats or dog have brought in that are still alive, I don't have the heart to kill them either. But I do gently pick them up and set them outside so they may die at least in their natural habitat. I love reptiles.
The only mercy I've ever showed any cockroaches were the ones I watched on Enchanted. When Giselle sings and all the city "animals" come help her clean house, I guffawed. But my affection for those cocky cleaners was still coupled with nervous collar tugging. Gross. Cockroaches cleaning? Funny, but gross.
Now if I could just figure out how to clean up my cockroach...