Las cucarachas

I wouldn’t say I have gotten used to Todos Santos’ las cucarachas brigade but I have come to accept our mutual habitation at Casa Bentley. I don’t which is worse, having one of these mouse-sized insects in the same room with you or the prospect of smashing its ample guts with your shoe. When we first arrived, a cockroach joined me in the shower. If I were a better rock climber, I would have had a toe hold on the ceiling. But limited in my climbing abilities, I was forced to don my flip flops and crush the intruder under foot. The sensation is not something you’ll quickly forget. Since then I have found a compromise. When armed with a shoe that is not on my foot and therefore unable to transfer the nauseating crunch up my spine, I will take my best shot at rending the beast one-dimensional. Otherwise, I will throw things at it until it returns so some dark, dank roach hole.

I kept my cool when Celia pointed out the dead cockroach on the kitchen floor. And a good thing she did because it posed a serious tripping hazard! I calmly found a broom to sweep the carcass out of the kitchen. Where are workers now?” I thought. A moment later I had my answer… Before swiping the cock-tank into its mango grove afterlife, I took a good look at the 8 armored legs darting up into the air. I gave it a little nudge to see if I could look at its back. When the broom hit the red-brown exoskeleton the roach sprung to life. Even over my own screaming and the hilarity of the workmen, I thought I could hear the familiar chuckle of that roach joker, Tank, who so slyly lured me in. Still shivering out the hibee-gibees, I considered whether the workmen were in on it. Tank, the trained cockroach, maybe? No, Jamie, now you are just being silly. But I could still hear the men giggling in chorus and the most persistent laughter coming from behind the refrigerator.