Oh poor roaches

I used to be absolutely petrified of cockroaches. The mere sight of them would send shivers down my spine, and I'd do everything in my power to avoid them. So, you can imagine my horror when, during a day of packing and organizing, a cockroach suddenly darted out and started scampering up the wall. Without a second thought, I sprang back from the door, letting out an involuntary yelp of surprise. It must have been a comical sight to anyone observing.

I cautiously waited, my eyes fixed on the cockroach as it effortlessly scaled the wall and attempted to sneak beneath the packed shelves. I simply couldn't bear the idea of a cockroach inhabiting the same space as my beloved books. With a sense of determination mixed with disgust, I grabbed my trusty can of insecticide.

Summoning up all my courage, I took aim and targeted the intruder. The spray hissed out, and the vile pest tumbled down. But determined and resilient, it rose again, undeterred by my attack. Disgusted, I unleashed another volley of insecticide, relentless until the roach finally succumbed and remained motionless.

In that moment, I felt a strange mix of triumph and revulsion, while also being incredibly relieved. The battle was won, and I could pack my books in peace, secure in the knowledge that no uninvited guests would be sharing their space. From that day forward, I always made sure to have that bug spray ready at all times!