March of the roaches

Before I moved here, the former intern and inhabitant of this place briefed me on the apartment's quirks -- its atrocious rent, small space and lack of privacy.

He failed to mention the late-night noises and the roaches. Yes, roaches.

Today, I asked him whether the racket behind the fridge kept him up at night. He said it did, and apologized for not mentioning it sooner. He also warned me to beware of the roaches and to keep the kitchen counter clean.

They come "in waves," he wrote. When he found one -- always in the kitchen with the exception of one encounter in the bathroom -- he notifed the front desk, someone would then spray the apartment and made "everything better" for a while.

I don't want to have wait. As I walked home today, I feared that I would come home to a roach-infested apartment. I thought they would be crawling out of the kitchen sink, covering the walls and, worst of all, nesting in my bed.

I don't want them to make themselves at home. They don't pay the rent, afterall. I do. I'm the one with the checking account that gets nearly wiped out after one, little (big) check.

I'm hardly psychic and, fortunately, I didn't come home to roaches, though I'm sure they're lurking, somewhere. Probably behind the fridge.

But I won't be taking any chances. First thing tomorrow morning, I will see if this place can get sprayed, before the march of the roaches.