Their kinds and their noisomeness.
Last night as I’m reading another chapter of The Hobbit, I heard something scuttling around my boxes to be confronted by the first small-ish cockroach of the season. I rattled the boxes around in the hope that it might take flight. The next thing I know, the revolting little creature has somehow migrated to the door of the cupboard. Fortunately, because they’re big, they’re noisy, and I swatted it with a newspaper before beating its mangled corpse to a well-deserved pulp. That was a small one, too. They get much bigger.
I wonder whether the big ones have any natural predators. The lizard that used to sun itself on the outside of my curtain would be overmatched by such a sizeable opponent.
And just as I beat up a cockroach with an newspaper last night, I should’ve enjoyed doing much the same to Class 13 with a newspaper last period. It’s academically humiliating enough as it is to do this job, but even my humiliation was being humiliated. Somehow after Class 13, a cockroach or two doesn’t seem so bad.