TikTok? Never seen one. K-pop? I thought that was an off-brand cola. Crypto wallets? Nope, I’m still decomposing a leather one from the early ‘80s. What can I say? I live under a rock.

Of course I haven’t seen Succession yet! I haven’t had HBO since I lived in the windowsill. I’m a HUGE fan of The Sopranos, though. I’m also in Waste Management. Even though I haven’t spawned yet, I'm familiar with Peppa Pig and Paw Patrol from Charlie, the four-year-old who keeps threatening to collect my rock. Negotiations escalate daily.

I’m more of a reader, really. My favorite book is the back half of the Harlequin Romance novel that I found in the gulch of trash. Surprisingly good pacing! I also liked Tuesdays with Morrie.

I found an empty box of Girl Scout Cookies in the gulch of trash yesterday. I wish I could buy some. Support the troops, am I right? Apparently, they don’t accept tiny chips of mica as payment. I’m pre-approved for a dozen credit cards, but good luck getting to Wells Fargo without being eaten by robins.

I often wonder if I should be doing more with my life than just breaking down plant matter, but what? I have impressive abs from curling into a tight ball every time I experience mild discomfort, but is that enough to be a fitness influencer?

Getting online is complicated, anyway. A lot of burner smartphones end up in the gulch of trash, but never the chargers. Even if we drag a phone back to the rock and Earthworm unlocks the touch screen, by the time everybody gets a turn to check their email, the battery is usually dead.

We managed an Amazon Prime order once, when I found a Visa gift card that had a little balance left on it. Holy shit, never again. Cardboard gives me crazy indigestion.

My career, though. Yeesh. I only have four LinkedIn connections: Cockroach, Earthworm, Millipede, and Centipede. Cockroach shares a lot of awful posts with headlines like “Why go viral when you could go bacterial?” It’s just embarrassing.

Millipede isn’t much better. She keeps pressuring me to rebrand as a “Potato Bug” or a “Roly Poly” since “Pillbug” has a negative association with the opioid crisis. I tell her, “Call me when you get Cockroach to rebrand as a Palmetto Bug.” I mean, Cockroach. Even four-year-old Charlie understands that PR nightmare that is.

Oh, Charlie. His parents insist that he has “enough rocks for an entire childhood” in the house, but I still think my days are numbered. The rock market is just insane right now. Some new LaCroix cans opened up over by the gulch of trash, but they’re so bourgeois, it’s just not for me.

I could always go back to the windowsill. Wolf Spider was a shitty landlord, but I always knew where I stood with the guy. And maybe he could catch me up on Euphoria.