Reproachable.

Guess what I found Sparty and Meep gleefully stalking this morning?

Hint: it can be found in the word "encroach".

So it would appear that this round goes to the roaches.

On the bright side, it looks like the stripe I am hosting is not, as the lady at the leasing office said, "the your house is gross kind." It is very possible that they are instead tree roaches—who are evidently quite the Texas welcome wagon—looking for water. This would make sense, since I live on the top floor. Unfortunately, they are still capable of spreading disease and all that loveliness, so unfortunately more killing is in order. Or, at the very least, repelling is in order (which I can do quite adroitly with my own species, har—if only this talent carried over to the insect kingdom). Ah, well. I have been scattering bay leaves throughout the apartment (which the mooshies have fortunately expressed zero interest in, as they are poisonous to our feline friends), and hopefully this will help. If not, that's when I start making homemade poisons consisting of powdered sugar and baking powder.

As I glance at the red bowl that I converted into a dome to trap this morning's visitor (maybe I’ll name him Gregor, or if it’s a girl, Gregoria), I can't help but think of the poor thing's eventual fate. Fate has made of me a murderess.

And this is of course no way to introduce today’s Meep in a Box TM:

Wherein our little lady contemplates leaving the context for which she is justly famed.