ONE MANS CASTLE

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I awoke this morning with great expectations and a desire to start my morning routine with as much unbridled enthusiasm as I could muster for a Monday. As I passed through the kitchen on my way to wake the kids, the mustering was put to the test. A roach. A dead roach. Motionless, upside down, and well, just plain gross. I got it into a dustpan and into the trash before any further ickiness could ensue. That should have been it. No more. End of story. Out of sight - out of mind. But then it hit me. Roaches can go a month without food. ( they can survive on postage stamp glue if they had to.) Roaches can go without air for 45 minutes. Roaches have a high tolerance to radiation.( you know the whole nuclear war survival story.) A roach can live with its freakin head cut off! (Until it starves- no head= no mouth= no food). Now I agree that the best kind of roach is a dead one, but I gotta know. Why is it that a creature that can survive all that stuff, couldn't make it in my house? I didn't spray anything, set off any bug-bomb, or whack him with my shoe. So tell me, what's wrong with MY house? This is where I've chosen to raise my two children. We eat, drink, sleep, and play in here. This is where we live and breathe. Still, roach is dead-couldn't cut it. Wait.... I know - old age! That's my theory. Unless there is some sort of cockroach suicide study I haven't heard of.