Post 20 - In which I battle a Cockroach.

This morning began like most Sunday mornings.  I wasted some time on the internet.  I considered getting some work done.  I watched some T.V. instead.  Eventually I decided I should shower and get ready to go to Church.

I rolled off my bed and went to the bathroom.  Just as I was about to step into shower, I was confronted by a gigantic cockroach poised for battle! (And by gigantic cockroach poised for battle, I mean a 2 cm cockroach lying on its back looking dead.  But that is practically the same).

Though the cockroach had the upper hand thanks to its sneak attack tactic (very sneaky; it had not been in the bathroom 5 minutes earlier), I quickly ran from the bathroom to prepare to meet my foe. I donned my battle dress (i.e. I put my pajamas back on) and carefully chose a weapon: 6 paper towels and a plastic bag (nothing special about the number 6; that’s just the number that was left on the roll.  If it had been a full roll it would have been 20 paper towels). I returned to the bathroom physically, if not mentally prepared to defeat my enemy.

My plan was to create a stack of paper towels and place them over the dead body of the cockroach and then pick up the stack of paper towel with the plastic bag and not have to see or touch or feel the body of the cockroach.  The plan would have worked wonderfully except for one tiny, tiny problem.  THE COCKROACH WASN’T DEAD!  AHHHHH!  SOO GROSS!  It moved! And Tried to Escape! And I had to Squish it! And It Stabbed Me! (no joke, I had a splinter of cockroach I had to dig out of my finger. Yuck, yuck, yuck!)

After a fierce struggle, I managed to get the cockroach into the plastic bag and out to trash.  It may seem that I prevailed since the cockroach is now out of my room and most likely dead, but now I am traumatized and scared to go into my bathroom.  Who is really the winner here?