EEEK! There seem to be roaches and mice in my apartment. The mice delved into my sushi rice leaving their turds behind and the roaches are doing la cucaracha on my bathroom floor as I sleep.
To you NYC-ers this is par for the course. But I have not had critters for ages. And suddenly I can't kill them. I accidentally half-killed a roach the other day and I felt horrible but could not finish him off.
As for the mice, I am chanelling female stereotypes as I leap on furniture and shriek. Do "humane" traps work?
Emily S.'s Buddhist parents say that I should simply "ask" them to leave the apartment.
I have no idea where this new sensitivity comes from. I lead such an antiseptic life. Insects did not used to feel so alien.
When I was a little, I remember a game of disturbing an ant hill and stomping on the critters as they emerged.
I remember a friend who would tape daddy long legs to her garage door. Others would use the magnifying glass to burn them up.
I also remember picking up fuzzy catepillars and letting them crawl up my arms. And collecting lady bugs on my bike handle bars, then riding my bike downhill as they flew away.