the sting of guilt…

Those who know me well know I’m a big old hippie. I make new stuff out of old stuff. I love to recycle, compost and grow things. And because I grew up barefooted on a farm, I’ve never minded when ants and other creatures wandered into the human realm. I figure they have as much right to be here as you and I do.

That’s why I’m still a bit upset about Friday. On Friday, I killed a bug.

It wasn’t just any bug, but a nearly two-inch long cicada killer wasp. (Such a beautiful insect!) It was loudly buzzing in the kitchen window at work, scaring people, being basically ferocious. (Wrong place, wrong time, poor guy.) I knew it had a mighty sting (c’mon, a bug’s gotta defend itself), so I squashed it between the window and the blinds (the stuff of high-grossing insect torture porn, I suspect), and I had to do it again and again (final scene: the horror!) because it just kept hanging on (no doubt thinking of his wife and sixty thousand babies at home…sigh). Guilt!!

And now, the second level: I have a super soft spot for cicadas. And these wasps eat cicadas (actually, sting them and drop them, one by one, into their babies’ pods, so that once digested by said pupae only their sad husks remain, like some crazy cicada skeleton horror movie all its own). So, I should be happy, right?

Well, it goes on and on. So, here I am, Sunday morning, still thinking of the cicada killer wasp. Sorry, little guy.


4 thoughts on “the sting of guilt…

  1. Aw, poor Jenny! My mom is similar in her views – a gentle shoo-er of spiders and releaser of fish – but even she recognized the imperative of offing wasps. They are basically the Sith Lords of the summer insect world.

  2. I killed a very large bee (at least, I think it was a bee) at work on Friday. It was on the floor of the office, not really moving much. I put a cup over it, slid paper underneath, and taped the paper to the cup, resolved to do the right thing and take it outside when I went home in an hour and a half.
    The creature buzzed and tried to crawl out, and then 45 minutes later, unable to withstand the rigors of captivity, it died. I’m still a little guilt-ridden. Maybe I should have taken it outside immediately?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s