Every summer, for about a month, we have an invasion of tiny bugs in the bathroom. Back when we were having so much trouble with ants, we called in an exterminator, and he said nobody had ever figured out where they came from or what to do about them, but since they were not harmful and had such short lifespans it wasn’t something they obsessed over.
Fair enough.
Two of them could probably fit on the head of a pin. It amazes me that something so small could possess a heart, a brain and some sort of navigation system. We find them on the wall, clustered around the nightlight we keep burning 24/7; they used to shelter under the clock radio before that item went to the Great Recycling Bin in the Sky. Now, they crawl around the counter, seemingly aimless, but when they meet, each one swings to the left to avoid a collision, and if I put something in their way – a pencil perhaps – they turn and go back. Do they have eyes? Antennae? Do they feel vibrations? How do they do this? What mysterious errands do they run, scurrying along? There’s nothing there to eat; even the ants have given up on that.
Very mysterious. And I really must find something to do with my time, other than gawping in amazement at a bunch of BUGS!
thisendoftheswamp 