Matt and I got home late Monday night. Our apartment smelled moldy (that's what happens when no fresh air comes in for 2.5 weeks, and it's a million degrees and humid), and it was just gross. I found ants in my cereal, I found a cockroach carcass in the corner of our bedroom, and I didn't enjoy being home, because it was so gross, but I was too tired to clean.
Last night Matt and I dedicated to cleaning. Matt was better than me (as usual). We first got the kitchen - with no major finds - and then I got the two bathrooms, also with no major accomplishments. Then, once Matt started sweeping, he found cockroach carcasses all over the place. There were two in our pile of laundry (including one that juiced all over my nice shirt - in the DRY CLEANING (for nice clothes!) pile. There were a few under the bed. Yuck, yuck and yuck.
Considering the cat has brought in at least five cockroaches in the past two days, I think what happened is that our neighbor left our door cracked for the cat at night, so she went out, brought them in, and then she tortured them to death and left them. They were all in her hiding spots. Usually we are here when she goes out, and we see her bring them back (or we hear her torturing them) so we kill them. This was two weeks' supply of cockroach hunting. I wonder where the rest are.
I must concede that her real name is Hunter.
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