No One Can Bug You Like A Mother

(I’m terrified of cockroaches. Unfortunately, they’re fairly common in my area, and will sometimes wind up inside the house. One night, paranoid after dealing with a roach in the bathroom, I find a second roach in the bedroom. I smash it with my sandal, but I can’t bring myself to get close enough to dispose of it. I leave my sandal on top of the dead roach, and eventually get to sleep at about 4am. The next day I post online about my dead cockroach dilemma.)

Me: “There is a dead roach under one of my sandals in the bedroom. I need my sandals. I do not know what to do about the dead roach; I don’t want to get close to it. Anybody wanna come over and dispose of a dead roach for me?”

Mom: “Cover him with a blob of wet paper towels. Put a zip-loc bag over your hand. With the bag on your hand, scoop up the blob of wet paper towels. Turn the bag inside out. Ta-daa!”

(I am about to thank my mom for the advice, when she continues.)

Mom: “Then toss the bag of wet paper towels out in the street as far as you can throw it, just in case the Reincarnation Fairy comes to your trash barrel and brings him back to life.”

Me: “OH, MY GOD! MOM! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!”