Bug lesson

I do not like bugs.  If it flies, crawls, buzzes or is pest-like in any way, I accept it’s right to live as a bug of God.  I’m a child of God, so fair is fair.

My general rule of thumb is if it does it’s bug thing outside and is not in my space or my food, then it can bug on.  If it’s inside my abode–wherever I may be aboding–and I can safely get it outside without causing myself or someone I love to suffer heart failure, then it gets to bug on.

If the above conditions cannot be met, then, well, you’ve got your dead bug.  Unless . . .

Earlier this week, you were a rather large cricket in the ladies room at the pedicure place I occasionally frequent (Ogre-the-Top Blue in honor of the new Shrek movie, in case you’re curious.)  I actually felt sorry for the ugly, long-legged thing.

She (remember, I was in the ladies room) was literally trying to climb the walls to get out of the corner and it was obviously a losing battle.

Boy, could I relate.

I have jammed myself into many corners without realizing that my escape route is behind me.  How often have predicaments loomed around me like slick walls meeting at 45-degree angles?

As I watched the cricket, I pondered how easy it would have been for her to simply turn around.  Or back away.  Instead, she kept pushing into the corner, occasionally and futilely stretching one leg up the wall. 

In my mind, I imagined her thinking that maybe this time it would be different.  Maybe she would find a small pit in the smooth surface on which to rise up.  Or maybe by some miracle, a small hole or crack would open for her to slip through.

I thought of the definition of insanity:  doing the same things over and over again, expecting different results.

I felt grateful for the gentle reminder, sent via an insect in a ladies room of a nail salon.

Then I turned around and left the way I’d gone in.

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