THE DAILY WRITE
Do Roaches Have A Right To Live?
Totally — just not in my home
Spiders, I’m not afraid of.
Lizards? No problem-o.
In fact, we’ve coexisted happily under the same roof many a time. I’ve only objected when one of the babies slithers across the headboard of my bed. This is not your playground, pal. Stay up there, on the ceiling. Even then. I’ve just shifted the pillow to the other side.
Live and let live, right? Besides, they eat my arch-nemesis.
But cockroaches? Ugh. Even typing the word makes me shudder. They’re a member of Phylum Arthropoda that I simply cannot abide.
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What is it about roaches that I, Gulliver to their Lilliputian forms, quiver and shake upon their very appearance? What is it that makes me run and hide in my bedroom, bolt the door and call 911 when I see one? Why does my pulse race, heart pound, and my hairs stand up on edge?
Is it because they’re singularly unattractive? I try not to judge a book by its cover but with the cockroach, I fail, miserably. It’s thick and flat, all at once. That greasy little body, those wings that might fly, those multiple furry legs, every aspect triggers my amygdala.
