Cockroach

As I started up my shower this morning, I noticed a 1/2 inch cockroach in my bathtub. I don't mind bugs outside my house, but inside my house I find them ghastly! So I determined to drown the pest as I started my shower. My shower drain is not super fast, but it keeps up with the water flow. As I watched the cockroach float back and forth and orbit the drain, I thought is was dead already. I realized quickly that cockroaches are nearly impossible to kill without chemicals or a blunt object (as evidenced by the week a roach spent in my polyethalene kill jar before it could be added to my collection for my entomology class). But the bug just floated there, not moving it's legs or trying to save itself whatsoever. Until it was right at the cusp of the drain. Just as it was about to be pulled into the whirlpool of suction down the pipe, it frantically flipped itself and flailed it's legs until it was caught up in another current that took it away from the drain. I watched this happen four or five times, it floating, riding the currents without moving until it is nearly sucked down and then the agitated dance of survival. I thought to myself, is that the cockroach's secret to survival? Do nothing until the absolute moment of demise and then fight like a berzerker to escape death? What a horrible life lesson. I've had a religious upbringing and was always taught that you should work hard every day, live every day, as if it were your last, because you never know when will be your last day. Don't procrastinate the day of your repentance, so to speak. So why has this lesson from the cockroach not changed my whole outlook on life? Why has it not convinced me to sit around and do nothing when I am in danger until the moment before tragedy? Because I don't want to be a cockroach.