7 am. Yowch! Someone toasts a bagel and wakes me out of my quiet slumber. Gotta get away from the noise and heat. I barely escape with my life as an angry human tries to swat me with a newspaper. A mad dash along the counter, a sharp turn down the side of the fridge. Ahhh, peace at last.

1 pm. A small dust bunny blows under the fridge. I check it out with an antenna. No biggie. Back to sleep.

3 pm. Tragedy!
The boy comes home from school. He yanks open the fridge, grabs a soda and spills a half gallon of milk. Me and my roach pals have to scurry before we drown in this growing lake. On our way to safety, the cat catches Clifford, my brother. I can't even stop to give him a proper burial. Luckily, I escape into a thin crack where the floor and cabinet meet. It's a tight squeeze, but I make it. Whew, my sides hurt from breathing so hard (in case you didn't know, diary, I breath in and out through holes in my side).

5 pm. I'm getting hungry. It's still too light out though, can't risk it.

7 pm. My stomach is growling like crazy! I think it's dark enough to look for food. Just when things seem safe: POW! The woman turns on the kitchen light. Two more pals get squashed. This has been a rough day for roaches. I make a dash for cover behind the cookbook shelf. I'm staying put.

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