We have cockroaches, I think. But I feel too sorry for them to be horrified by their presence; I perceive them even a little affectionately. They don’t race by like cockroaches in Oklahoma, or flee when you turn on the light. Instead, they hold still, or meander lethargically towards some vague goal. I saw one on the wall of the kitchen just now, as I went to fill my water bottle and brush my teeth. He was just clinging to the wall, unmoving, as though he were trying to generate the energy to move in the face of all of this cold. I feel you, little guy, I feel you.