I'd been marvelling at a BBC doco on plant life with marvellous close ups of insects showing the hairs on the legs of flys, for example. Anyway I tired of that, and thought ready for bed. Heading to my cosy white bed, I picked up a copy of my guide book to NYC that I have read a thousand times, but reading about again it is almost like being there, and I shall be in a few weeks.
As I snuggled in I noticed a cockroach crawling along the top of my book. My reaction was to exclaim some kind of "er... yuk! sound, and hurl the book from my bed. Alas if there was a roach there I had no chance to get it. And I am proud of my roach stomping abilities. Did I imagine this? This is the thing with mental health problems sometimes you are not sure if the things you see really are there.
House roaches are new to Melbourne, they've been here now for about 15 years I think or longer - we have some indigenous ones, but the roaches in Aussie houses are what they call American or German cockroaches, considered dirty, and I'm still not used to them. I have baits everywhere. Of course all the poison is probably far worse for you than insects. Alas, they creep me out, I'll happily pick up a snake or spider, but roaches: no, no, no! I squash them and remove them with a tissue then scrub my hands like someone with OCD.
How silly.
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