This post is a transcription of a journal entry I wrote on April 12, 2018. It’s one of those things I’ll try to keep in mind when I miss New York, or feel bad about moving to Melbourne. Not that Melbourne is without cockroaches, though there are reportedly fewer here than in Sydney. But Jen and I had back-to-back infestations in two of our Williamsburg apartments. If that were to happen here, I’d be surprised. And who knows, maybe I’d even find it a little comforting.

Roach Photo/Killing by: me

Roach Photo/Killing by: me

4/12 Thurs

I’d finished an episode of Fargo. Jen was asleep. I opened the closet to hang up a hoody and saw on top of a hanger that held my Pistons sweatshirt, a cockroach clinging to it, vertically. It didn’t move, besides its antennae. I was immediately upset. Stood staring at it. This would be hard. The way its body was situated made swatting it w/ a shoe or other object impossible. The best course, it seemed to me, was to snatch the hanger off the rail at lightning speed, and if it jumped off I’d stomp it, or I could trap it in the sweater. 

I grabbed the hanger and the roach disappeared, as if anticipating this move. I regrouped. I hated my life. I wished I’d never been born. I realized I was frightened, I was scared to hunt the roach in the closet. I was sickened and spooked. But I turned the flashlight on my phone on and began searching. I took things out of the closet. It’s a mess in there. And then I saw its disgusting antennae swirling around, sticking out the top of a pile of shoes. Again, there was no quick way to kill it. Could either grab the antennae or push the pile down in hopes of crushing it. But the antennae vanished. I flattened the pile, but in removing the shoes found nothing. Then I saw his terrible shadow in the light of my flashlight. Where was it? Was it a he? 

Went back to the other side, it wasn’t on the vacuum like I thought. But I heard its legs on the wooden floor. So awful. Finally it started scurrying around in front of me, running out of the closet and I fucking demolished it under my flip-flop. 

I hate roaches so fucking much.

This week hasn’t been a great deal of fun.