Pointless existence

No, this isn't a nihilistic depressive piece.

Every year at this time I am perplexed as to why daddy long legs exist. They are probably the most stupid creature on earth. They are not grateful, nor ferocious, nor do they appear to have any function. They lumber across the room laboriously and fly into the same wall over and over and over and over and over.

This latter point is why I both hate them, because it's really annoying, and spend a substantial amount of each autumn pondering why. I've probably blogged right here about it before. It's something I think about a lot.

Right now there is one hanging ominously above me. The one that was doing the wall jig has settled. Obviously they are both waiting for me to turn the light out so they can go for the most glowing thing in the room, which is going to be either my white nightie or my clock radio.

Oh. The mad one has disappeared again. That's bad. I don't like that. Ominously hanging above my head one is still hanging ominously.

Oh wait no. It's got some wall flying into to do in absence of its pal. Maybe it thought I was sitting ominously under it and was worried I'd spring up while it slept.

I don't see the point of them. I assume they are a valuable source of food for something important. Or maybe they are the most successful species on earth and they mock us for our ridiculous notions of normality.

Whatever. I eagerly await that time when one realises that even the spiders have gone for the winter. Hateful, idiotic mini beasts be gone.

Beasties

One of the things I dislike most about summer is the constant stream of insects. I don't like insects at all, with the exception of bees who are clever and generally unannoying.

My pet hates are daddy long legs and moths. They get in the house and then when it's dark they run amok. Moths fly towards any light, which is particularly irksome when the only light is the nightlight you are reading by. Daddy long legs are a mystery of survival, they are ungainly and appear to have no purpose or aim in their pursuits.

Anyway. The joy of winter is the vanishing of these horrible creatures. I do not appreciate the mild weather making year round insect infestation.

I have bites on my leg. I guess insects that thrive on blood don't rely on warm weather, but I still feel wronged. Insect bites are a summer irritation, I don't expect them in January.

This afternoon I put a spider out of the window. I don't dislikes spiders, they eat insects which makes them heroes in my book. But where there is a spider there must presumably be insects, and and so the clement weather must be allowing them to survive. Not on!!

As a fan of winter and disliker of hot weather, I put forward arguments as to why winter is superior. The lack of insects is a biggie, so to have that removed is unfair and such cheatery by the sun worshippers.

The final insult from the insect world, is the beasties setting up home in my children's head, presumably picked up at a trip to a soft play centre last week. Revenge is mine however, they are being annihilated as we speak and I'm a dab hand at insect disposal of all types, so the comb and I make short work of removing any visible beasties.

Hate insects. Vile and horrible (except bees).

Summertime Blues

I miss winter already. I still feel sad when I look out the window each morning and see colours instead of white. The temperature is nice and the jacketary requirements are perfect, but the presence of fair weather, aside from the reappearance of INSECTS, means the joyous peacefulness of winter is gone.

It's hinting at Spring and people are going nuts.

Sun is out = must be outside.
Must garden, must build random stuff using saws/drills/hammers outside, must have children outside at all times.

It's very noisy. I don't like noisiness. I particularly don't like the noise of other children, especially during my halcyonic nursery time. There seems to be a myth that opening the back door and booting kids into the garden is an adequate childcare method, scant regard is played to whether they have anything to do whilst outside and some boredom relievers are damnably noisy.

The one horror that remains to be unleashed on my poor unsuspecting ears is the unrelenting noise pollution that is lawnmowing. James Dyson, please, a quiet lawnmower? And people, really, grass doesn't grow that fast. In fact, why not consider astroturfing your lawn? Or have a nice Zen garden with no grass.

Sorted. No more grass = no more lawnmowers. Outlaw garden lawns! Parks can have grass, I never hear their mowers. And they have proper mowers.

281 sleeps till Christmas...