I'm optimistic, because everyday I get a little more desperate. And desperate situations yield the quickest results.

So last night there was a cockroach in my bed. I had turned out the light and was watching my bedtime Office episode, Patrick was mostly asleep and I felt something on my foot. Immediately I began kicking and twitching epileptically, rousing the half-comatose Patricio. I leaped out of bed and turned on the light… and saw nothing. So we settled back in and five minutes later, what do I see by the warm glow of The Office? A cockroach. Moseying its nasty way down my arm. I am quite upset by this and begin bellowing—with a curious mixture of disgust and triumph—that the cockroach is not imaginary, and it is currently on my person. Patrick grudgingly rolls out of bed and turns on the light to find me alone in the bed. He sighs and pointedly begins searching through the sheets, when he spots it. Running from the bed towards the closet. Man, I felt so freaking vindicated at that point. He gallantly smashed it into a gooey pulp with my shoe. And then he went back to sleep and I stared wide-eyed around me for hours. Really the funniest part is that I am pretty sure Patrick does not believe the roach was in the bed. But I saw it. I did. It was on me. He was extremely annoyed that I kept waking him with my anti-roach flailing. Lest you underestimate me, I’m not too bothered by creepy-crawlies. Even roaches. There used to be a nest of them in the shower drain at our previous abode and it didn’t faze me. But in my bed, that is a different story. Also I was having a “difficult” evening and this just capped it off. Gross. Stay out of my bed roaches.