Who you gonna call?

The evening/night/whatever before my flight back to Delaware seems to sum up the mood for the whole week.
I kinda hate that, and hate's a strong word.
Started it all off watching 500 Days of Summer for the first time.
This is one of several movies I missed before the Wii got its own Netflix channel and my Dad would send movies back before I got to watch them.
Previously, I had only seen this.
Nice try with the nurse there, Mr.G, nice.
Credits are rolling and Sis is on her computer when she suddenly starts freaking about something and dives into her closet.
I look back to her bed and where she was sitting is this cockroach the size of my fist, the color of copper.
I spring to my feet.
Sis starts yelling at me to kill the thing while I get her vacuum from her kitchen.
I go for it once with the hose, but has soon as it felt the hose it flew away.
It pumpkin flew from her seat to her pillow.

Kill it.

It flew.

Yeah, it's a cockroach, they do that, kill it.

It's your cockroach. You, kill it.

You're the guest, earn your keep.

She tried going at it, putting an attachment on the hose.
It flew up to the ceiling, across the room, behind the bookcase.
She sleeps through anything, is sleeping now.
I'm too worried about it coming out from behind the bookcase to sleep.
I'm too terrified of another one coming out of the radiator thing on my side of the bed to lay down.
So, now I'm blogging about the event, wondering why this is the end of my week.
It started with little sleep and amazing luck which kept my spirits up the rest of the week as the positive energy got tired, got sick, died and I required some reason to not kill my sister.
Now, it ends under the strain of incredible terror and little sleep.
I would rather this apartment be haunted than infested.
At least, with a ghost, I wouldn't have been lonely the two days Sis had work.
Also, no Wilson shot and no socks to munchkinland.
I wish the story were better, ghost or cockamouse.
As an apology:

You guys exterminators or something?

Yeah, somebody saw a roach on twelve.

Must be some cockroach.

Take your head off, man.

P.S. Turns out her vacuum has this switch to move the suction from floor to hose.
Guess why it didn't work.
The things you notice sitting on a floor to avoid a radiator and a bookcase.

Goodbye, Los Angeles, I think I shall miss everything except the cockroach. Why?
I ain't scared of no ghost, but cockroaches are something awful.