I'm mad at the bugs; they've been breaking the rules.

And don't give me that "what rules?" business, you know exactly what I'm talking about: the deal where if they can limit their travels to my blind spots and/or my peripheral vision, I can pretend they don't exist long enough to override my nigh-overpowering urge to kill them. Most bugs are born knowing this, and generally, if a bug gets within two feet of my face, I give them the benefit of the doubt and assume it was a careless error, rectified as soon as they fly away. Once they hot-wing it to the distant peripheral-vision-only zone, then it's like, what bug? I didn't see any bug. No stupid bug has invaded the sanctity of my house. I'd better not CATCH any bugs in this house.

Lately though I've been getting these saucy, kamikaze-type bugs who love taking themselves out by flying straight into my nostril. Now, if I was a tiny life form looking to kill myself with a bang, the nostril would not be my venue of choice. I can only assume that these tiny bugs are not the top of the heap in tiny-bugland, evolutionarily speaking. They are probably a credit to their gene pool by getting rid of themselves before reproducing (although I suppose I have no way of knowing if they've reproduced yet or not, but I'm basically pro-evolution so I'm going to assume that they are reckless, pre-pubescent tiny bugs.) In all seriousness, I wonder if a species of house-dwelling bug so protected from nature has evolved that it lacks any survival instinct whatsoever. If generations upon generations of bugs have been living the high life off of bountiful orange juice spills and endless feasts of cookie crumbs, you have to reckon that the poor specimens aren't getting weeded out anywhere near as fast as they normally would. Multiply this trend by long enough, and you get a bug that assumes that a creature 50000 times its size is of no particular significance. Perhaps they interpret me as some sort of amusement park ride.

It is of course possible that these bugs aren't flying into me because they're too stupid to avoid me, but instead because they're having some kind of complex existentialist crisis, the pain of which has caused them to take their own lives rather than continue their wretched existence. But I think that's more of a Butterfly thing.

I should postscript this by saying that I've decided to try to blog every day, or at least close to it, for writing practice; I think it's safe to say that they can't all be winners.