War

At 2 in the morning I discovered hundreds of small, black larvae wriggling in the corner of my bathroom, and I got rid of them.

Afterwards, I made some amusing comparisons and composed a blog entry in my head. I would draw an interesting parallel between my ordeal and the effects of war on soldiers.

Oh it would be entertaining. I'd talk about how I'd gone from reluctantly executing a distasteful task to screaming war cries at the worms. I'd talk about how, instead of making the killing as clean as possible, I had resorted to chemical warfare to dislodge the stubborn ones, using the most dangerous liquid I could find in my bathroom, mouthwash. I'd even dub the mouthwash Agent Blue. I wondered what my boyfriend, who knows well how I hate killing things, would think, and I considered including a 'soldier returns to lover a different person' skit.

I'd make it all witty and humorous and entertaining. Then I thought, how easy it is to compare a war with the de-worming of my bathroom! And suddenly, I lost all appetite for humour.