BelongingMy older sister's blog
Blibby's BlogMy little sister's blog
Gixxer For ChristMy brother's blog
Grantian FlorilegiumDr. Grant: literary, bibliophile, wordsmithy, and professor
Blog and MablogPastor and professor in Moscow, Idaho
A Proverb A DayShort daily expositions and applications of a Proverb
The Evantine AbbeyMy former landlord, self-proclaimed futilitarian
Roots by the RiverThe elder Wilson, providing practical encouragement to Christian living
Christus RexHe's masculine during the week and feminine on Sundays
Trozzort's TalesGot married, cut travel time to church by 75%
Blog of NashThe Nashes like football and their kids
Joy in the Journey
Has cute kids.
Pointyshoes87Those funny stories aren't made up
Filled With TruthAdventures and thoughts of a Christian country girl
Danger BlogSeeing the glory of God in the ordinary
Sacra DoctrinaTheology and family of Joel Garver
A MinorCommunity-oriented blogger
This Classical LifeYoung family living the classical life
A Cup of RichFellow Celto-phile
Sir JakeHe's happily taken
UnrivenThe writer, student, and Chicago style pizza lover
Gulf CoastalBeside the sea
The High PostClever Christian chaps, triumvirate of family men
Wittenberg HallDiscussing Christianity and beer
Weighing GlorySomewhere chasing his hat
Down To A Sunless SeaWhen Florida and Minnesota collide
Crash Into MeNo problems with authority
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Attack of the Silverfish
I am not a person who will willingly share my home with bugs. And so upon moving into my apartment I was pleased to see clean, crack-free walls and floors, and no bugs of any sort, whether small and beetlish or multiple-legged, scurrying out of sight. There was only a dead spider in the bathtub, but he was of no concern.
But something happened the second morning of my residence that threatened to shatter my perception of the security of my home. As I turned off my alarm clock and reached to the floor to turn on my desklamp, my eyes trailed back across the opposite wall of my room, and suddenly froze in a startled stare. I sat propped up rigidly, alert. An intruder had been spotted, but only for a fleeting instant. A large, black, multiple-legged creature had raced out of sight behind my computer desk; whether it was a large spider or a silverfish I could not tell. Why I thought it might be a silverfish, I don't know. Maybe it was the memory of multiple legs and something like antennae protruding from one end. I sprang into action like a warrior springing into battle. The bloodlust was upon me as I cautiously peered down the crack between my computer desk and the wall.
No one there.
I quickly opened the door to the compartment that housed my printer. The enemy was not hiding there either. I cautiously raised a corner of the desk to try to snuff out the demon insect I was sure was lurking beneath, but the carpet remained bare and silent.
I checked behind the desk again. At this point the grogginess of the morning and sudden arousal from sleep hit me, and I began to entertain the thought that I was just seeing things. Something in the back of my mind told me that this was not so, and that I knew it to be otherwise, but now a warm shower and breakfast were on my mind. I cautiously shook out the clothes which had been lying on the floor, checking for falling creatures, and followed up by moving my strewn articles of clothing to higher ground, out of conceivable reach of large black multi-legged monsters.
Many days passed, and I never saw the enemy again. The idea that I had just been imagining things began to seem more believable, even though I still avoided putting my clothes on the floor, and sometimes would silently creep into my room in the dark of night and suddenly turn on the lights in the hope of catching an intruder red-handed on one of the bedroom walls. But I never saw anyone.
Then one night I woke up to visit the bathroom. As I sat in there, half-asleep, my vision rolled to the closed door of the bathroom, and there, scurrying through the crack between the floor and the door, came a huge, three-inch long silverfish. Not just any silverfish, but the granddaddy of silverfish. He slithered at surprising speed across the floor of the bathroom. I was now fully awake and on my feet. The enemy had counted on the element of surprise and attacked before the coming of dawn, and I was seemingly ill-prepared to face his charge.
But size was to my advantage, and while the Silverfish raced toward the toilet, my toilet, I crossed over him in one long stride and raced to my closet to procure a stout shoe. I then raced back hoping to catch the Silverfish before he had time to regroup for a counter-charge, and prepared to get medieval on him.
The first stroke of my shoe was well-placed, but the Silverfish, being a grizzled old veteran, found a corner to hedge into to reduce the force of the blow. He then made a dash for better cover, but my follow-up was swift and sure, and he was crushed. I cleaned the guts of my foe from the bottom of my shoe and sent his remains down the whirlwind that leads to the underworld. I closed the lid on the whirlwind, satisfied with victory.
But the war is not ended. The remaining silverfish cells are sending out scouts, and one of them felt the wrath of the same shoe, the shoe which used to be part of a pair but has been reforged into a more glorious life as a weapon. And I wait, and the battle goes on.
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 E l s e w h e r e
Scientists find bugs that eat waste and excrete petrol (link added 06.16.08)
Crude oil is being created from genetically modified bug excretions.
Read it
Pringles can designer buried in his work (link added 06.03.08)
Designer of the Pringles can was cremated and his remains kept in a Pringles can.
Read it
P o e t r y
Contented Wi' Little, And Cantie Wi' Mair - Robert Burns
Contented wi' little and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' guid swats and an auld Scottish sang.
I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome Thought;
But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught.
My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur touch.
A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the Deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way,
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae!
Come Ease or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is:- ' Welcome, and welcome again!'
S t o r y
R e a d i n g / R e a d
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