I didn't need a journal to write this one down to remember; it's in the permanent cache....
Sitting on my couch, relishing in the first few moments of the toddler's nap, I was minding my own business, just settling in to a good read of the current issue of a local weekly. Out of the corner of my eye a very large waterbug (read = big ugly cockroach) waltzed in from the front hall.
His large, 3 inch black body lumbered across the beige carpet, towards the coffee table. Now, after last winter (where in my old house I caught or bludgeoned 29 mice to their demise), I did not shriek, scream, stand on the couch, nor threaten the oversized bug. I simply stood up, rolled my local weekly paper into a nice cylinder, and whacked it. Right up into the air. Where it did a couple of flips, and landed with style points on its feet. So I whacked it again. This time it waved at me on the second rotation. And it landed on its feet again. So I whacked it a third time. It landed on its back and twitched.
I went off to the bathroom to get an ample supply of toilet paper in which to pick up the large menace. The roll was empty. So I went to the closet, got a new roll, changed the roll, and carried the paper tube and a wad of toilet paper back to the bug. Upon my return, I was quietly thrilled to find it still on its back. I bent to pick it up, and it flipped over and started walking away from me. Well now! You don't just walk away from me like that!!! So I rolled my weekly into a weapon again and whacked it a fourth time. It paused. Then continued. I whacked it twice more, in quick succession.
Convinced it was stilled for a bit, I reached down with my wad of toilet paper and picked it up. It instantly fought me and clung to the paper, trying to loose its leg from between my TP-covered thumb and forefinger. I put the toilet paper roll, and toilet paper with the large black cockroach in a clear plastic bag, and the roach started crawling around trying to escape. So I smashed it with a heavy glass. It kept crawling. So I smashed it again, really grinding the weighty glass against the bag. It wiggled out from underneath the glass.
At this point, I'm beginning to get discouraged. Those 29 mice were collectively easier to dispose of than this one black waterbug. In fact, of those 29 mice, 23 were caught with sticky traps, one died in the kitchen sink (I don't know why), one drowned in the dog's water dish, one got caught in the bathtub -- meeting its end in a live-action game akin to "whack-a-mole", and three got bludgeoned with a broom. I don't like mice. And I'll never live in another house that's 100 years old and drafty again, if I have anything to say about it.
Back to that great big waterbug. I use my mouse training to quickly decide on a course of action. I grabbed a nearby hammer and hit the sack. Now, I didn't want to damage the kitchen counter, so I didn't hit it that hard, but it was plenty hard enough to still a mouse. The cockroach crawled away from that too. So I hit it with the hammer four more times in increasingly strong whacks. Finally the thing oozed its insides out and I hit it once more for good measure, called it a day, and threw the sack in the trash.
If I see that thing crawl out of the trash, I may move again.
Note: I did not hurt any cute mice because I find it fun. I just wanted my food for my family more than I wanted to feed the stray mice coming from the vacant house next door. You suffer with mice in your couch, in your cereal boxes, and alive in your bathtub, and then you let me know if I was wrong to dispose of them as I did....