sometimes opposites should attract

There's a roach somewhere in the kitchen right now. It's taken almost 3 months for one of the not-so-little pests to appear, and I'm sad to see the honeymoon period end.

We generally try to wash the dishes throughout the day or right before going to bed because it's annoying to stumble into the kitchen with one thing in mind (coffee) and have to jockey for faucet access to get water into the electric kettle. So last night when we got home from a rousing game of Settlers of Catan (one in which I fortified my position as biggest loser), Charrow started on the task while I tended to the socially acceptable food grubbers. A minute later, there was a clatter of silverware and Charrow scrambled out of the kitchen with the water running full blast.

Not knowing exactly what the problem was, I stepped into the kitchen unarmed. This turned out to be a critical mistake because the first time I spotted the palm sized roach was the only time I had a clear shot at it. Granted, it would have been hard to take aim and scream at the same time, but I still wish I'd had the forethought to pick up a shoe. By the time I grabbed a Chaco from underneath my dresser and returned to the scene, the intruder was gone. I staked it out while Charrow finished the dishes, but it never came back into the smashing zone. It did reappear for a minute, but it deftly used the edge of the microwave as a shelter, and then it was gone.

The problem with roaches is that I hate them as much as Charrow does, but because she can't stand still long enough to kill them, the task has fallen under my jurisdiction. I feel obligated to assume the responsibility because she's willing to remove the dreaded arachnids for me, even if it requires getting dressed for a late night catch and release. But the truth is, I'm horrible at killing roaches. The bigger they are, the more I yelp and the less accurate I am with a shoe. All I can picture when I'm about to strike a blow is the fact that I'm going to miss and the damn thing will scurry towards me and gnaw my nose off (because apparently they DO bite).

THE LESSON: fall in love with someone who fears different multi-legged invaders than yourself or you'll both end up screaming from atop the highest point in your living room OR make sure you get cats that enjoy crunching on just about anything that wiggles.