As I exit the shower, after a day of burning brush in the snow, I detect even without my glasses motion on the floor of the bathroom. A little leg waves like a pompom. Another western coniferous seedbug has found its way inside from the sills. These large, slow-stepping, kite-shaped insects emit a vinegar odor when alarmed. I've learned many ploys to be un-alarming. I talk to them, for instance. Reasonably.
But I am the larger life form. And only a part-time Buddhist, with ready access to toilet paper and a monumentally efficient flusher. I've stopped counting how many have regretted my comforting pinch. I've dispatched hundreds. You, insect, smell. You, insect, poop. I once drank your nectar in my coffee; thank you for the nice surprise. You want to survive indoors? Evolve a more pleasant je ne sais quoi.
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