My favorite season has arrived and I am back in my flip flops. Sun, skirts, sunglasses and smoothies, what a wonderful thing. It's like tropical paradise with skyscrapers.
It's during the summer when I make sure I keep my apartment as clean as possible: no food left outside, all dishes are cleaned after use, the garbage is taken out regularly and I dust more often than I usually do. I pray to God that he will reward me with an apartment that's spic and span.
I do this because this season usually brings out the bane of my existence: cockroaches. They summer in my apartment. And every other apartment in New York (only their owners don't know that yet).
They sneak up on you in the shower. They crawl up in your wall, flapping their wings ready to fly. They hide in the darkest, most discreet spaces and come out to play quietly in the night. Worst of all, they procreate like crazy and before you know it, those 100 tiny babies are 2 inches long and all over your apartment.
Oh and what grosses me the most is the crunchy sound of their bodies when you give them a quick, painless death - using my poor flip flops. Maybe that's why I said earlier I am back in my flip flops. Gross. Ugh.
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