Just Call Me "Ana, Cockroach Killer"

I've always thought myself pretty cool under fire when it came to bugs. I even used to kill spiders for my older brother when we were kids because he was so afraid of them. But then I moved here and had to deal with cockroaches the size of small children. Cockroaches that will get into your house no matter how clean you keep it (so let's put that myth to rest right now, people - not that I am a model of cleanliness or anything, ha).

I am proud to announce that I finally managed to kill a cockroach tonight without screaming and trying to get Oliver to do it for me. I was doing laundry, trying to figure out what was giving out that musty smell in the laundry bag (someone dropped a wet towel in the middle of it, apparently), when I came across a huge black sucker wiggling its nasty antenna at me.

I stared back at it for awhile, trying to determine what I was going to do, then made up my mind when it made a break for it down the side of the bag. I ran for a shoe, then plastered it to our floor when it was trying to cross a doorway in the hallway. I had to scrape it up with some cardboard, though - I couldn't bear to feel it underneath some tissue. Yuck, yuck, yuck!!!

The things you learn to do when you live in the tropics...