Houdini "L" Roach

We live in an old house, circa 1918. It's in the mode of Prairie-style, two stories, a basement (not a wise choice), and a large front porch. It's red brick, has 37 windows, none of which are air-tight. There are plumbing issues, water issues (as in rising, basement), electrical issues (my favorite are the two double light switches, where one of each pair is controlled by a different breaker), and "settling" issues. ("The kitchen door won't close. Guess the house has settled for the season.")

One of our biggest issues are the many little hidey-holes between the walls, under the floors, and in the (ahem!) basement, where insects can hide. In spite of a 29-year relationship with a quarterly pest control service, we have still been the prey of ants (the ones that hid in my iron took a while to sort out), fireants (we'll never be rid of those), fleas (I didn't feel nearly as bad when I learned that year that everyone had fleas, even people without pets), and rodents. (See basement above.) Spiders are endemic and what would autumn be without the lady bugs gathering in the windows and bathroom? But our latest source of abuse has been the roach.

We have fought a good battle, going to the nesting source (the split hackberry in the backyard) and I thought detente had been reached. In bolder moments, I envisioned winning the fight. I've even been a bit cocky about it. (Think on it.) And then I met my match this morning in the downstairs bathroom.

Cleaning house is not my favorite thing to do, but the holidays approach and the family is coming, so things need to be spiffed up. I'd dusted, vacuumed, swept, finally made my way into the bathroom. There, on the floor in the corner, was a roach, belly up, quite still. I gathered him up with a bit of toilet paper and flushed him, turned to scrub the sink, turned back around and voila! there was a wet roach, belly up, in front of the commode.

Hmmm. Surely not, but it had to be, didn't it? That was the roach I'd just flushed, except I hadn't crushed him first, he'd been merely stunned on toxic roach juice and had found the strength to fly out. After all, that was one very wet antenna stretched out on the tile. Toilet paper, commode, flush. Satisfied, I went about my business.

Five minutes later, I come back to the bathroom to finish the cleaning and there, in the same corner as the original, is a roach. Belly up. No lie, because you can't make this stuff up. I studied the distance, didn't note a wet trail, and proceeded with the toilet paper, CRUSH, commode, flush.

Out I go. Ten minutes later, vacuum cleaner in hand, I'm back for a quick run-through and there, on the floor behind the commode, belly up, is a roach. It can't be the same one, it just can't. I crushed the heck out of the last one. I repeat the performance.

But I'm still leery. Hours have passed, and I enter the bathroom cautiously. Why should 3 roaches stumble out of hiding in succession? How could one not die?

However, I do think he's gone, Houdini Lazarus Roach.