Unwanted Roommates

I have lived in New York City for about six years and never have had unwanted roommates (well, unless I count the one who had a propensity for my clothes that grew to the point that I discovered a collection of select pieces of my wardrobe under her bed, or the one who left me with three months of unpaid bills). But I knew these people were living with me; I had chosen them, and as such, I dealt with each situation accordingly.

Today I killed - smooshed, to be exact - not one, but two unwanted roommates, roommates whom I had never invited into my apartment and who were little, brown, crunchy, and who jumped. Jumped so high that I was afraid of leaning down too far for fear that they would touch my face or my hair.

All plans of going to sleep early tonight have also been smooshed because I am awaiting the sight of yet another cockroach. I am wearing two different boots, because the right boot that I used to do the smooshing is under quarantine in the hallway, saturated with Tilex that supposedly kills everything. And I feel violated. Not to mention nauseous.

My little cute home has been invaded by these guys (I can't even fathom that they are girls, because I have heard in what is perhaps an urban legend that if you smoosh a female cockroach she still can leave her egg sac and bear many cockroach babies) and I am totally grossed out. I don't keep food here; my refrigerator is pitifully empty but for a bottle of ketchup (the world's best condiment) and a jar of grated cheese (a close second with garlic powder for the next best condiment). So here I sit, in my comfy papison chair, waiting to spot another one. Because a cockroach can be an anomaly, but two in the same day definitely hints that there is a family living here. A family that I did not invite to live with me but who regardless exists somewhere near the bookshelf, under the furnace, dangerously close to my bedroom. And yes, the space between the bottom of the bedroom door and the family room is more than one-eighth of an inch, which is the amount of space the websites I have consulted until the point that I felt like throwing up have told me is that through which cockroaches can slide.

Jumping cockroaches! Leaping lizards! Disgusting no matter what, and I would very much like to sleep without dreaming of them, but I don't know if that's an option now, as I am sitting, awaiting, with my jeans tucked into my two different boots and my eyes frantically scanning the carpet for signs of movement.

How do I get rid of these little buggers??? I want to be able to host guests in this little apartment of my own, but with these uninvited roommates, I don't think I can.