La Cucaracha

Cockroaches and I have never been good friends. I resent their smug post-apocalyptic selves and take umbrage at their continued existence. I know all God’s creatures have a purpose on this earth, but dang if I can figure out what the cockroach is for, other than to plague me. And a plague is what we got.

There are several species of cockroaches, ranging from the smaller German cockroachs to the fat American type that occupied Joe’s Apartment to the hissing ones from Madagascar. They all can be found here (except the hissing type). Tenerife is cockroach Nirvana. They love it here and thrive in the warm humid climate. And Carmen’s house is their holy of holies.

Ranging in size from a fingernail to the length of my pinky, they’re everywhere - in the food, in the clean clothes, on the dishes, and on my toothbrush. They scurry, lay their eggs, and die all over the house. I dread turning on the lights because it just confirms what I already know: I’m surrounded.

I’ve been doing some research on natural ways to kill cockroaches. One website promised a mixture of sugar and baking soda would result in a volcanic eruption in any snacking cockroach’s stomach. Another suggested luring them into a glass jar with some honey and trapping them that way. But what do you do when you literally have thousands living in your home?

Cockroaches have only two major predators: geckos and iguanas. My next pet? A cute cuddly cockroach-eating lizard.