I moved in with my exes mom (we were dating then, and staying there cuz we’d just moved states and didn’t have a place yet) in the Deep South. But central. We could NOT. Keep. The. Roaches. Out. I developed a 6th sense for the damned things.

Two years later, I’m living with my new bf, still in the Deep South, and we haven’t seen any roaches for like a year. The cleanliness was wonderful. Until. Winter passed and so did spring, we were in the deep, humid trenches of summer. The AC was full blast above the bed, right above our heads. It was freezing inside. Sweltering and wet outside. I was in a deep sleep. Until… I awoke, immediately scanning the ceiling. A dark spot.

A fucking roach was on the ceiling. The damned this was huge. I hit the lights and it TURNED ITS HEAD TOWARDS ME. I ran for the fly swatter, and he hauled ass. The thing had KNEES. I got close enough and felt ok to raise my weapon.. and then he jumped. At me. And FLEW. I quickly dodged and screamed, my bf (now ex) was awake, and so was the dog. The roach landed, and I smacked him. It… it splattered, and I stg I felt it splatter on me. I took a boiling shower and scrubbed myself nearly raw.

I. Hate. Roaches. HATE.

We started paying for the bug man to come spray the house twice a month instead of once. Those southern wood roaches are no joke.

hate