I wanted to go out on the deck and check the plants, but I am trapped inside. For on the inside of the screen, right next to the handle, is an earwig as big as the Ritz. The sort of earwig that must have roamed the earth during the Ice Age, feeding on…um…Jumbo Earwig Chow For Large Breeds.* A dire earwig. I know in my heart of irrational hearts that if I risk opening the door, it will utter the mechanical scraping roar of Godzilla and lunge for me, butt scissoring in a mad ritual of death.
Okay, it’s probably not that much bigger than any other earwig, but it’s got me held hostage. Fortunately, the front door is safe. Or at least opaque.
*What the heck do earwigs eat? I know silverfish like paper, but I’m unclear on the difference, if there is one.
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