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February 17, 2008
No, what worries me is the three-inch-long roach that scurried over the top of my boot as I opened the door to the transmitter deck. Will he find his way under the watch-house door? Will he crawl into my comforter?

And where is the centipede I saw in the stairwell on my last round? He was lying on the top step, ostensibly dead; at least, he didnít curl up when I poked his upturned belly with my screwdriver. Now he has vanished.

I would look for him, but I donít really want to find him, after all.