There have been two little ants crawling around my bathroom floor for the last week. I don’t kill them because their existence doesn’t bother me, unlike some creatures. Ok, I’m actually warming up to the smaller yellowish jukim. I’m from New York, for god’s sake. I’ve had a cockroach crawl up my thigh. A New York cockroach, at that.
I’m not a person who is usually ‘afraid’ of tiny critters; I had the same rule in the States that I have here: You stay in your house, I pleasantly observe you. You enter my house, I kill you. Sometimes violently. Unless you’re kind of cute or your existence doesn’t really bother me. Like ants. In my bathroom.
Those two in my bathroom actually give me something to do. But I’ve noticed they’ve become rather un-ant like. They don’t walk in line together. They’re kind of slowing down and probably confused. Lights on, lights off. Lights on, lights off.
On a totally different note, I want to note the irony of the garbage bin falling into the garbage bin just now. In America, everyone has their own personal garbage cans. Cans – more than one, even. Here, everyone shares a huge construction site sized garbage bin thing. So when my dear just went to take out the rubbish, he accidently dropped the bin inside the bigger bin.* Fascinating!
*We got it out, no worries.
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