Warning: This entry is not recommended for people who don't like bugs or killing things. This is one of those days where I want to write something but I don't know what to write.
I just finished thoroughly cleaning our shoe-room. It's a very tiny room that has a few dozen dirty shoes, a sink, a dish rack full of dishes (no cupboards, so that's where they go) a hot plate that never worked, and some umbrellas. You can't really fit two people in there very well, when Fantian and I leave for book-study or something, only one of us can put our shoes on at a time. Anyway, it seems that at one point in time, long long ago, that the hot plate worked, because there was yellow grease spattered all over the ceramic tile walls. And while I wipe and sweep the floor and wipe the sink down, I really never could motivate myself to attack that grease, or scrub under the stainless steal sink. But today I saw a huge cockroach in my room, killed it, and was then on motivated. But from what I've read I'll probably never rid myself of them, we are immediately above several little restaurants, we can hear them chopping things, watching TV, and smell them smoking through the walls (That is we hear the restaurant people, not cockroaches). But hopelessness aside, our shoe-room is sparkling white. Oh, and before that I moved my bed and mopped under it too, I suspect the cockroach detected the loaf of bread I had laying on my floor wrapped in TWO plastic bags from the night before. I'm pretty sure he couldn't have gotten to the bread, but I threw it away anyway. Which is a bummer because it was pretty good bread. Oh, and before I mopped my room, since I seem to want to tell this story in reverse, I ran out into the shoe room and put my outside shoes on. Guess why? This is the gruesome part. I had to crush the life from this massive yellow creamy gut filled creature. He kept running under my bed, each time I slid it out of the way, but the third time, I was too fast for him. If you've ever crushed a giant cockroach, they're messy, makes you feel like you've stepped in something a dog left behind. Which is why I started the mopping frenzy to begin with come to think of it, it's also why I changed my shoes just for the job.
So now, here I am, a few hours later, a little sore from scrubbing, fingers still a little wrinkled, typing a story about killing a cockroach and mopping my floors that I will soon submit to my website so my family and friends can know how truly dangerous it is to live in Taipei, for a cockroach. One time I stomped on a cockroach so hard it hurt my heel. I'm getting used to killing them now, at first I was hesitant to step on something so big, something as long as my foot is wide. One time I stepped on one pretty hard and it didn't quite kill it, it was pretty surprising, I think that's where they get the idea in movies for the monster or bad guy to come back to life after the good guys think they killed it, from cockroaches.