By Maura Madden

God, it has been a busy time at my house. We seem to have friends over all the time. For dinner, for brunch, for coffee, for drinks, even lunch. Sometimes our friends even come over for no reason at all, just to hang out. They are everywhere! And you know what, every time I see them, I want to kill them.

We don't invite them over, these friends. No, no. In fact, we do everything in our power to keep them away. I furiously clean the dishes immediately after eating. We scour the counter with Fantastik. We leave the light on so they know that someone is at home. But they show up anyway, right here in the kitchen, popping out of drawers and cabinets, because a few of my closest friends in New York City are cockroaches.

But hey, what's the big deal? They just want to spend some Q.T. with me, and what is wrong with that? I love chilling it out with my buds, having some beers and a big meal. So do roaches! I carry lots of germs and am basically a dirty animal. So are roaches! I love scaling walls swiftly to escape the light. So do roaches! Do I see myself in them? Is that why I can't stand them? Or am I jealous of the fact that they have hundreds of babies and I have to get my kid fix from babysitting? Maybe. But whatever the reason, roaches turn my stomach. I see them, I am paralyzed with fear, and I freak out.Ê

My housemate is not so weak. She lived in Costa Rica where the cockroaches had frequent flyer miles. Ours are land lovers, and I know I should be thankful for that. And I am, god, I am. But my gratefulness is short-lived. Sure, there are no flying roaches here, and there are none of the tropical rainforests and the beautiful beaches that make the flying roaches worth it. What is our reward for roaches? The subway? I don't think so. Whatever it is, it's not worth it.

I'd like to take this moment to defend my household hygiene. We keep our home clean. We keep open food in the refrigerator. We sweep the floors and clean the cupboards. We are not pigs. No, everyone in our building is plagued by these friendlies. The exterminator is a monthly visitor, spraying untold toxins into the recesses of our cupboards. He tries to keep them at bay, but still, we have these friends.

On Friday night at 2:30 a.m., I returned to my apartment. I was looking forward to making a batch of fresh popcorn and a cup of tea and doing some reading before I went to sleep. I popped the corn and poured it into a bowl, then reached into the cabinet for my favorite popcorn topper, the San Francisco treat know as nutritional yeast. I keep the yellow flakes in a sealed plastic container to keep the friends away. But sure enough, as I grabbed the container, I saw something moving towards the top.

I dropped the container. Sure enough, the friend landed right in the bowl of my freshly popped popcorn. I nearly fainted. Drumming up some courage, I grabbed the bowl from the bottom and knocked it over, sending the popcorn and my friend running in different directions. Alas, the friend escaped. The popcorn? I threw it away. Because when you have friends like these, you never know where they've been. And you don't want them to share your food, especially if they're not chipping in for the bill.