So I walk off the elevator and there's a fucking cockroach totally spawn-camping my door. It's so huge it can't just squeeze under the little rubber thing. I wave my arms at it and stomp around to try to scare it to my neighbor's door (yes, I know, I'm terrible). Once it's far enough away I open my door the tiniest crack and wedge myself through.

“Success!” I think as I close the door behind me. Except...I get the feeling I NEED to turn around...

And there the dirty little bastard is, about half a foot up my door.

I drop a few of my favorite expletives as I grab the broom. “Fuckflans, fucker. You're not getting in here.”

I stab my broom at it like a lance and knock it down. Opening the door I start doing some puck handling techniques until the thing is a clear shot and—

“You're outta here...”

I do a slapshot that would make TJ Oshie proud, and the thing goes flying off the ground into a wall—and I see something break off the damn thing.

It lands, and it starts actively fleeing the zone—and I chase it with a can of bug spray, soaking it down to the point where it DRIPS—and it's STILL ALIVE.

So now you know why I'm parked outside my door, holding a dagger and eating an açaí pop.

I can sit here all day, bug...

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