Me vs the roaches. Boric acid. Soy oil. Roach traps. Raid in various forms. Roach bait. You name it, it's been (or still is) part of the arsenal.
Today the war continues. Deep, deep cleaning of the kitchen (for the umpteenth time) and another deployment of weapons of mass roach destruction under and behind the refrigerator and into every visible crevice.
Still, I fear that as long as we live in Georgia and have cats we'll also have roaches. The cats' water dish is for the roaches* what a waterhole on the Serengeti is for wildebeest. When I flip on the light switch late in the evening that's where the little scuttling bastards scatter from. I zap as many as I can with the soy oil, but in my mind I keep seeing the cockroach general in the Fabulously Furry Freak Brothers comics reacting to a loss of troops: "No problem. I've got a million more."
*Roaches can go a long, long time without food, but they die in 7 days without water. If roaches have a religion, they probably worship large furry gods who generously share an unending supply of both manna (aka Meow Mix) and water.