The roaches. When I came to Australia I was not expecting the roaches. Even when I was warned about them my first day at the lab, I continued not expecting the roaches. How naive I was. How blissfully ignorant.
I have found five cockroaches in the house. One I chased around my room for almost ten minutes before catching in a soap dish. I had to climb up on the bathroom sink late one night in an (ultimately unsuccessful) attempt to capture another from the shower ceiling. And a few days ago my housemate found one in the refrigerator. That's right. In the refrigerator.
I have learned to turn the lights on and give rooms a once-over before entering them. I check my shoes before I put them on. I do not walk around outside in flip-flops after dark.
It's funny. Everywhere you go there are postcards with koalas and kangaroos on them, even though this is Sydney and there's not a koala or roo in sight. But I've yet to see a postcard of a cockroach...
There is, however, a live one under my dresser that I discovered while writing the last sentence. Excuse me for a moment.
No, make that a dead one. I didn't kill it. Its desiccated corpse appears to have been collecting dust for some time. I've been sleeping in the same room as a dusty cockroach corpse.
Oh man. I hope Katie doesn't read this. Three feet from your head, mate.
** Update at 11:17pm: Make that seven roaches I've found in the house. Not including the dead one.