Though like the real life situation which the original version of this Photo-shopped pic hearkens back to...we're sure to expect some, ahem, continued insurgency.
First off, lets put this workplace conflagration out. The status is the same as the last post yet now, by way of my silky-sweet talkin' skills and some subtle wordplay shell-gamin' I think I've convinced the "enemy" that I'm actually on their side and that the whole controversy sprung from the redneck maintenance man...an oh-so-easy fall guy.
Katherine has gone back, albeit cautiously, to her snoozing and Susan sleeps with her phone by her bedside, ready to interrupt her carpet cleaning efforts on her girlfriend the minute she gets my call. "Munch on, Susan, munch heartily on, for that call will never be a-comin'!" (Though your girlfriend might be...)
The second which has been on going for months now is another Critter War in my home. Yes, in this place too. Well I knew it really. The signs were there despite the wonderful cleaning job the prior tenent had done. And the negative reviews on apartment ratings sites...can't ignore that, especially when there were so many.
Good thing: They weren't Palmettos. As you know, I really HATE Palmettos. No, these were your garden variety German roaches. Bad enough indeed, And the fact they multiply so rapidly had me in a quandary all summer. Coinciding with a management change and two neighbors moving, the pests got intermittent visits from pest control personnel and were forced to rummage around a lot.
My solution was to complain to the office several times 'till they finally came out to lay down some bait gel compound in strategic areas. I followed that up with my own, almost literal "carpet bombing" campaign utilizing boric acid powder, Combat baits, two variants of RAID and some highly recommended Ortho dust.
Finally, in the past week or so, I've only seen a couple dead bodies, and dead nymphs too which could imply even the most recent generations have been wiped out.
'Course I'll probably get lung cancer now with my apartment riddled with poison.
But fuck it, I call it MISSION ACCOMPLISHED on both fronts.
Legal Disclaimer: Michael's opinion is entirely speculative. It may well be he's dead wrong. If in a couple of weeks we find his roach-covered body having died from suicide brought on by being fired from his job, then, well...there you go. Lesson learned.