This morning i found a squished cockroach. I know I didn’t squish it. In fact, now that I think about it, my squeamishness about cockroaches has actually saved their lives several times. Just the other day I stopped my supervisor from stepping on one that was crawling across the hall at work. We ran across it going back too. Still alive.
This is what happens in Southeast Texas when the rains start to come and flood everywhere. The bugs start to move inside.
The roach I found this morning was squished flat. The very strange thing about this is that it has happened more than once. A week or two ago, I found a squished cockroach behind my husbands chair. It wasn’t as well squished as the one I found this morning, but that’s because it was much, much bigger. Maybe you don’t think this is very strange – a man squishing bugs-but these squishings are done completely by accident.
My husband can’t see the floor.
Our house is very “Spartan,” as my father calls it. There is plenty of room for Sam to walk without having to use a cane, and all of us know not to leave things where he can trip on them. We even have what we call “fairy lights” in the hall for his occasional midnight trips to the fridge. We put the lights on so that everyone else can sleep with the doors open, not be bothered by the light, keep the electric bill down (a big problem in the South in the summer) and my hubby still has a lighted hallway so he doesn’t walk into the door or turn too soon and hit a corner.
So, my husband can’t see the floor, but cockroaches are constantly walking directly under his feet to be squished. They must be Kamikaze’s sacrificing themselves for the greater good of all roachdom. That is fine. So long as they use my husband’s shoe to do their divine calling and not mine!