Days 14 and 15

I kill roaches with a vehement disinterest. I am indifferently disgusted. It's not a hatred, or a fear, or a pleasure. I simply Do Not acknowledge their right to exist in the kitchen bathroom or bedrooms of the apartment and every night around 2:30am when I come home I do my best to eradicate them. Some days I only kill a couple. Some days I kill like, 25. Most of them are so small... baby roaches. But the (fuck I just killed one running across my keyboard) worst kind are the huge mama bear roaches with their floppy ecru coloured egg sacs. So nimble.

This isn't so much a preamble (though I will make a weak segue) as it is an entry in itself. Roaches. Ick. No court would convict me. Except cockroach court and ain't no way in hell I'm going anywhere near there!

The point is that I called my ex tonight on my way home because her bedroom light was on and I didn't want to put my squashing gloves on just yet. I was greeted with the sound of a phone being dragged though (what honestly sounded like really comfy) sheets, a soft murmur of voices and then a disconnected signal.
Oops.
Completely owning up to it being my fault for calling. Completely. And also acknowledging how crappy I felt after she hung up on me. And that feeling you get when you've relinquished your place in someones life and you find that their whereabouts are a dismal surprise. Or not a surprise per se, but certainly dismal...

But then you shrug your body and go home to take it out on the roaches.