{shortcode-24643cedbe14221289878261864001a8ceef067a}ne September morning, I awoke to the indescribable tickle of something crawling up my right leg. In the dim 6 a.m. window light, I wrestled my eyes from sleep and cast them into the milky world of my room. There, in bed with me, laid a hideous brown orb. A roach. Spurred by terror, I leapt out of bed, banging my head on the adjacent desk of my miniature Canaday cubicle. I spent the next three hours overturning my room to no avail. My opportunity to retaliate?
Vanished. Having spent countless hours in Canaday, I’ve encountered my fair share of Harvard’s buggy pals. For each, I’ve developed specific anti-pest strategies, which I’ll share in this guide.
I. The Roach
I’m not sure what it is about cockroaches, but they paralyze me. I tried to look up a picture while writing this guide and had to take a five-minute break. The sight was too much, the memories too recent. Your chances of getting Yard Ops to assist with these unwelcome visitors is about as likely as you or me landing on Pluto… tomorrow. If anything, they’ll tell you to get a trap.
Sometimes, roaches subvert our preparation and defy the traps. But they cannot defy this tactic: whack-a-mole. When you see a roach, take hold of your nearest hammer-like instrument and go crazy. Whack, slap, and hit the pest until it’s a pancake. You can choose whatever tool you like. I, personally, am a big fan of shoes — specifically, the Chelsea boot. Who knew that my new fashion statement could deliver such a satisfying crash against the floor?
Friends of mine have taken to more creative tools. For bathroom roaches, Swiffers make an effective lightweight option, though be careful not to strike too hard — you don’t want to crack the plastic. Brooms are also good, though take note of the bristles — whack-a-mole turns ugly when they pick up the roach rather than squashing it. For maximum effect, consider placing the cutout of a frenemy on your whack-a-mole tool.
II. The Fliers: No-See-Ums and Mosquitoes
These pesky nuisances are hard to spot. They’re inconsiderate and too small to notice until it’s too late and they’ve made a feast of your arms and legs. In the great outdoors of the Science Center Plaza, by the cesspool of those smelly wet rocks, sprays and scents offer solid protection. However, I prefer my dorm not to smell like a giant eucalyptus bomb.
Instead, your own hands are the best method of defense against these miniature fliers. These insects may be small, but they are neither silent nor invisible. The hum of mosquito wings and their slight flicker through the air makes them just visible enough to sandwich them between your hands. A little gross? Perhaps. But you’ll know the job is done. You can even clap along to your favorite Spotify playlist. Trust me, you’ll feel invincible if you clap to a Mariah whistle or the beat drop of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5.
If killing an insect with your bare hands seems just too gross, try chopsticks. I once knew a guy who squashed bugs between a pair. I’m still not sure how he did it.
III. Ants
Ants present less of a problem in Canaday (knock on wood), though some say they have turned Kirkland into their very own exile colony. Wherever they are, ants come in all shapes and sizes. Maybe it’s the persuasion of Disney’s “A Bug’s Life” that fuels my empathy for these creatures — but not enough to welcome 300 new roommates. If there aren’t too many, scooping them up on looseleaf and returning them to the outdoors is a harmless option. Ant traps also provide a seamless way to discreetly exterminate large numbers when the entire ant farm finds its way indoors.
If you can’t get a hold of an ant trap — or you’re just a cruel person — there’s always another way. I once watched an Instagram reel in which an individual devilishly encircled two ants with water, shrinking the dry space where the ants were until the water drowned them both. The reel is tragic; it humanizes the ants in a way that summons remarkable grief. If you choose the ant flood, I advise you do so at your own risk.
IV. Silverfish
I have less empathy for silverfish. There’s a reason they don’t have a feature film. These slick, flat crawlers have a knack for inopportune jumpscares. They jump on you in the shower at 3 a.m. and invade your towels while you’re distracted brushing your teeth. When I was little, I used to think these things only existed in Minecraft. But they’re very real.
In the shower, water is your best friend. It’s funny; despite silverfish’s affinity for dampness, they die in water. Point the showerhead in their direction. If it’s detachable, even better — hose them down the drain!
If you’re not in the shower, good luck.
V. Spiders
Spiders play the apex of the bug food chain. As such, I have a soft spot for them — we share a passion for eliminating insect intruders. I am conducting a cost-benefit analysis of whether the number of bugs they kill outweighs the fact that they are bugs, too. My results are inconclusive.
The bigger a spider gets, the closer I get to believing the costs are too high. In that case, I endorse the handy vacuum. With a flick of a button, one large woosh suctions your pesky problems away. Of course, there remains the live spider stuck in your vacuum cleaner. I leave those next steps to you. I normally defer to my roommate.
