Since moving to a subtropical climate, I’ve begun to get used to things.
- giant fruit bats fighting in the palm trees at night over something to eat – come on, guys, there’s plenty there for everyone!
- sunny days that all of a sudden reveal one rain cloud that douses my neighbourhood for 2 minutes and disappears
- geckos hiding in my bedroom or kitchen or lounge or patio that begin clucking just to let you know that they are there
- the sacrificial cockroach left on the laundry room floor every morning
Yes, nearly every morning I walk downstairs and discover a sacrificial cockroach.
I imagine that in the night the giant cockroaches that live outside and get in the house make a decision. They sit around and decide who is going to be the one who will ingest the poison and then lie down to die in front of the washer. They’re smart. They’re going one at a time. I imagine that they take turns saying good bye to the sacrificial cockroach, hugs are given and tears are shed. And then they go on with their night, scrounging for food and trying to avoid getting eaten by the geckos and skinks. And the next night, another one will take his turn. It’s like they are doing it just to prove that the exterminator fee is worth it (it totally is, by the way). Unfortunately, it also means that I am greeted by a belly up new friend every morning whose legs sometimes still twitch a little bit as I try to sweep him over the threshold and onto the patio.