Bugger

I can never squash bugs. I am not sure if this phenomenon evolved from basic girlish squeamishness or is simply a reflection of the freakishly generous depths of my soul, but the truth of the matter is, I CANNOT bring myself to S-Q-U-A-S-H. Today, I saved a wasp. I noticed it suddenly, roaming around on the inside of my window. I was kick-started to action and put on a hooded sweater, gloves, pants, and running shoes. I tied a scarf around my face. I then caught it, with the help of a trusty Tupperware container and a piece of paper. I took off the scarf, gloves, hood, and running shoes before I ran downstairs to let the thing free.

Yesterday, I rescued an Asian centipede from being killed by the floods of my morning shower. The grateful thing, having recovered from near-death and in high spirits, now holds court on the wall by the entrance door to my building. I know this because I saw it there with members of its harem on my way back from buying milk at the corner store. I think it waved hello.

Sigh. I wonder about this deeply rooted need to SAVE things…I’ve been know to trap and release cockroaches, for crying out loud. Even worse, my 2nd grade classmates used to bring me their broken pencil leads all the time because I collected them (the truth is, I felt bad for them. I felt you shouldn’t chuck something out just because you thought it no longer served a purpose). I also went through a phase where I couldn’t ERASE anything in my school workbooks. You know it: it wasn’t the LETTER’s fault I hadn’t drawn it correctly! THAT was N-U-T-S-O. It’s irrational, I know. But it took me a while to get over it. I should probably talk to someone about it…but everybody speaks Korean here, so it will have to wait. Until another bug comes around. In the meantime, I should put a sign up stating Happy Bugs Asylum on my apartment door. I wonder what my neighbours would think. They’re not ALL Koreans.