They say that after a nuclear apocalypse, the only surviving creatures would be cockroaches. After a three week battle with the little fuckers I totally believe it.
One night I went to the kitchen for a midnight glass of water. A filthy little roach was sneaking down the window frame hoping that I wouldn’t see him. Attached to his (or her) butt was what looked like a rollie pollie bug. With the stealthy cockroach capturing skills I had developed over the previous weeks I snatched it up in a paper towel. Curious to find out why it was toting another bug around, I opened the paper towel to inspect my kill. Turns out that the ‘bug’ wasn’t a bug but an egg sack! Ewwwwwwwwww! I took a toothpick, pried open the sack and discovered about 50 larvae. Totally and utterly disgusting. Blech. Is it considered cockroach abortion if I kill the larvae while they are still in the egg sack? If that’s the case, I’m totally pro-choice: my choice to prevent cockroach life.
Last weekend we waged war on the infestation. Armed with roach bait, roach traps, and a helluva lot of roach spray, we enacted our own version of shock and awe in the kitchen. Oh the carnage! Bodies everywhere! The aftermath was disturbingly satisfying. Little shelled bodies on their backs scattered the floor and countertops.
We discovered their lair in the space above the dishwasher. The conditions there are perfect for roaches and their spawn: warm and damp with easy access to food scraps.
After two days of avoiding the kitchen and the poison had done its work, we finished painting the kitchen and cleaned EVERYTHING in the kitchen thoroughly. Hopefully we’ve seen the last of those little buggers.