Living in Florida, one thing you have to get used to is the bugs. We have a lot of them out here, because the whole state is basically a swamp resting atop a gigantic slab of limestone. Mosquitoes, spiders, slugs, you name it, we got it.
Seeing one in your space is a gut check every time. I know few men who are blase about such vermin. Exterminators excepted, of course.
They come up through plumbing, through cracks in walls, through anything. You can keep your house as immaculate as an operating room and you’ll still find one every once in a while.
Geckos, of which there are many in Florida, will occasionally kill a roach if they’re hungry enough. I saw the aftermath once in our back patio: the gecko had torn the roach’s head off and splattered its guts everywhere. It looked like a murder scene in miniature. Fascinating and disgusting all at once. Hannibal Gecko Lecter and one of his victims.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” I said.