BUGS GALORE

This morning I woke up to shrieks and yells from one of my roomates. "Aaaaah, eeeeeee-oh-my-gosh-o-my-gosh!" She had met my friend. I was pleasently acquainted with him about a week ago, but survived the introduction and thus we managed to be mutually indifferent to eachother-up untill now. The few I told regarded him as one of little consequence. So this morning we were all suddenly forced to admit his existance. We even named him. I think it was something like Lewis or George... he is about the size of my thumb and is an expert escape artist-to quick for us to catch. He is a shiny black cockroach.
I suppose being so intimately acquainted with a cocraoch could have positive aspects, but I have yet to find them. Although I must say I find him quite tolerable compared to our cereal lovers. Cockroaches are nice and big, easy to see if not find. Weavils are another story. We have a huge selection of food and about 5 choices of cereal each morning. There is a particular one that at first is unrecognizable as a cereal. It's a mix between the big shredded wheat bars and oatmeal that has been sitting in a bowl for a day or two. It's lovely. Anyways, we have to make sure that these cereals are filled every day for the next morning and the lots fell to me to refill this particular kind of cereal. I began in myown girlish way to open the first box-fumbling with the tab-and finally gave up on all pretence of having any idea what I was doing. I eventually managed to open the first box as well as the prestigeously wrapped packs of cereal. I stared at the lovely lump for a long time waiting for signs of movement. There was nothing-except for a few crumbs falling here and there. And then the first one decided to stick its ugly head out of its home of probably several years. Actually their heads are so small, you only really see them once one's entire body is crawling rapidly towards your fingers. The others followed. I was brave. No shrieking, no acrobatics, no big seen.
The next package I opened I noticed the ones swarming inside and over boxes before I even got to the individual packages. This time however, I was slightly wiser and proceeded to hold the box with thumb and forefinger as far away from my body as possible. Although it was a precarious position, I felt marginally safer, knowing that instead of instantly swarming all over me, the weevels would be foreced to proceed up my arm, thus giving me more time to observe and foil their efforts. The next boxes were carefully inspected for the tell tale holes of weavle housing developments within. I filled up a trashcan.
My skin is still crawling. I find myself forgiving my morning friend for being a cockroach.