The Uneasy Truce

For nearly a month, we had peace. I didn't menace them and they didn't menace me. When I saw one under the hammock outside, it didn't touch me, and I let it go to the grass in peace. When there was one in the car on Friday night, it scuttled under the seat and out of sight, and we let it go. We even got in the car and took it into town. But this is too much; a bridge that cannot be uncrossed, a wound that cannot be uncut, a stone that cannot be unthrown. They've come into the house. Three of them now. They're large, they're fast, and they're Raid-resistant. How large, you ask? About the size of the infrared mouse your right hand is resting on. How fast? Quick-twitch reflexes that would put a cat to shame. How Raid-resistant? Spray them and watch them wave their antennae at you in mocking glee.

Yes, the cockroaches have come inside. It's time to put away my fear, swallow my girlish squeals of horror that seem to erupt every time I see one. The uneasy truce is over.