My apartment has a huge roach problem. And by that I mean it has a problem with huge roaches. As in, they’re roughly the size of Volkswagons.

I’m told that these are not the kind of roaches who nest in apartments, yet somehow they keep getting inside, one at a time. The apartment complex sent an exterminator to spray on Monday. I’ve found three more since then. So much for that.

Miraculously, the place was roach-free while Kristie was here last weekend, which is a good thing because she says she probably would have freaked out. Since the problem doesn’t appear to be going away and my lease is now month-to-month, I’m itching to move to a new place, but I can’t start shopping until Kristie figures out where she’s going to live post-graduation. She might come here or she might have a job in LA, depending on a pair of upcoming interviews — therefore I might be here or in LA, too.

Until then, I just have to keep roachslaying. Last week I found one scurrying around inside a bag of tortilla chips. Next they’ll be drinking my beer and asking how the DVR works. I may start charging them rent.