My name is Daniel, and I have a cockroach problem.
The first: a few days after I moved in, on the front doorstep. I squashed it with a boot.
The second: a couple of weeks ago, jumping out from the cupboard underneath the sink. It scurried away and escaped.
The third: last night in the pantry, in a packet of fettucini. Sigh. Chucked all the pasta out. Time to find the spaghetti jar and start packing all my food in sealed containers.
The fourth: I got on the train this morning and got the newspaper out of my bag. As if from nowhere, a cockroach appeared. Had it come from my bag? Did I have a stowaway? I couldn’t tell. A couple of people stared wide-eyed as it crawled across the carriage. I wasn’t sure if I should stomp on it. It went and hid underneath someone else’s seat. Maybe it thought the inspectors would ask for its ticket.
A thorough search of my bag when I got to work didn’t find any more. But eek, gonna have to clean the house thoroughly and take precautions against them.