Here, I'll make everyone feel really good about themselves, and tell about the yucky situation that occurred last night.
I'd gone into the bedroom to get ready for bed, during which time Boots
(the cat that likes to lay on our bed) decided she wanted to go into
the rest of the house. Now. Right
now. Really, she meowed, get cracking and open this darn
door. Now, Dmitry doesn't call her "stupid cat" for no
reason....when I finally went to open the door Boots pulled her usual
stunt of dashing back to stand next to the bed and cower.
Boots cowers like nobody's business. She's the "Cowering Cat"
poster cat. I don't hit her or kick her, for crying out
loud! In fact, I'm the one who provides food, water, and changes
the kitty litter. Couldn't tell it by her behavior when I go to
open the door for her, however. One would think she'd suffered
the torments of the damned at my hands. Read once that cats do
this to create a little excitement in their otherwise rather dull lives.
Good as explanation as any.
Anyway, I opened the door a few inches then walked toward Boots,
angling a bit to the left, thus providing a Way Of Escape for
her.....she dashed like the Seven Hounds of Hades were on her tail,
knocking the door open as she beat a hasty retreat into the hall.
And in so doing, tripped over the quite frighteningly huge roach (the
kind that lives outside and sneaks into the house) that was outside the
door, scuttling toward the bedroom. I don't know which was most
surprised and taken aback: Boots, the roach, or me. I
suspect it was me.
The roach apparently decided that whatever it
was in the bedroom sent the cat rocketing wildly out of it was
something smart roaches avoid, so turned around to go back the way it
must have come. Except now there was Boots sitting there, casting
an interested eye on this new kitty toy.
Hmmm.....Freddy Krueger in the bedroom, a large roach-killing critter
dead ahead. This was one baffled bug, which elected to hunker
down next to the big box of books in the hall (which has been there at
least a year and a half....it's on the list, alright?) and hope no-one notices it.
Trust me, roaches the size of rutabagas, I notice. 
Grabbed a really old can of flying insect spray from under the bathroom
sink cabinet and - putting my shoes on first, naturally - gingerly yet
bravely tiptoed into the hall where the roach was, and sprayed
it. Since it was facing in the opposite direction I couldn't get
a really good look at its face, not to mention it was dark in the hall,
but the impression I got was of puzzlement. Sprayed it
again. This time it shook itself irritably and ran on.
I found a magazine I decided needed to be thrown out anyway, and
cautiously entered the hall. I could hear the sounds of
scrabbling, so figured it'd run behind a paper bag of stuff (it's on the list, okay?) and Boots was trying to get to it.
Nope. Boots was sitting still, head cocked, attention fastened on
the bag, from which the loud scrabbling noises came. The bug had
climbed into the bag but now wanted out.
Mercy Maud, I do so hate situations like these. 
I can't go to bed listening to that noise, obviously, but I'll be
darned if I'm going to peer into that sack, either. After a
minute or two Rutabaga Roach managed to pull itself up sufficiently to
leap out of the sack and land on the floor, whereupon I dropped the
magazine on it and stamped on it. Then went to get a phone book
and drop that on it for good measure.
Y'know, the publishers of those phone books are quite right....there are some things the internet just can't do for you. 
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