I'm still trying to get a handle on the insect situation round here. Its all very well during the day, when you're gazing raptly at a swallowtail butterfly sailing lazily past on huge creamy wings, or tiny dust-coloured crickets that reveal a flash of blue wing as they fly off. When the sun goes down, though, it's a different story. I first moved here in April and the main problem was mosquitoes; chewing bits of me I'd rather not have chewed, bringing me up in massive lumps, trumpeting in my ear all night so I got shag-all sleep, and generally putting a dent in my mood. Lashings of insect repellant and one of those plug-in gadgets seem to have resolved that problem, but as soon as the mosquitos were taken care of all these other beasties came crawling, flying, and buzzing into my gaff. If you're not careful about pulling the blinds down when you turn on the lights at dusk, it takes about five minutes before the place looks like a set from Indiana Jones. Moths, cicadas, more moths, giant gnats, even more moths-- are moths supposed to squeak? Because I was trying to flick one out the window with the mop once and it kept squeaking at me. Really loud. It was weird. And I had a mantis in here the other night, just a little one, about two inches long. I was torn between two distinct and powerful emotions: Wonder ("Hey, look! A leeetle tiny mantis! Wow, never seen one in the wild before!) and Arrrrgh ("Arrrrgh! Bug! Bug! Weird leggy bug in flat! Arrrgh arrrgh arrrgh!")
But that's nothing to what my arch nemesis has to put up with. Bwhahahahaaaa.
In other news: Started wrting a promising rant today about transhumanism as it relates to why I hate everyone, but then I decided to go shopping and by the time I got home I'd gone off the boil a bit. I'm determined to finish it though.