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I watched an insect drown today.  I don’t know what to call it.  It was a black ant with wings - flying ant?  Its wings were stuck in some leftover sauce on a plate in the kitchen sink.  I watched it struggle for a bit and decided I should end its misery.  I turned on the faucet and the plate filled with water.  The ant’s legs were flailing all around, and then it was just the top two, reaching straight out as if it was trying to lift itself.  Or perhap reaching out for me to pull it out.  I didn’t.
And after twenty seconds or so it stopped moving.

I didn’t feel great about it but what’s done was done.  I left and came back about 5 minutes later.  Lo and behold, the winged ant was gone.  It was under a spoon and to my surprise, alive!  The water had diluted the sauce enough to free the wings.  It must have known this and played dead to get me to stop watching.  The trickster!  I didn’t try to kill it a second time.  Hope it’ll find its way out the house or at least out of my sight.

My cat sitting stint ended at 6:30am this morning when the owners came home, a half hour earlier than expected. I started clean up at 6am when I got home from spending the night out, thinking an hour should be enough time to do what I needed. I had only gotten through rinsing the dishes and dumping them into the dishwasher, cleaning out the two cat litter boxes, filling up their humidifiers when I got the call that they were downstairs at the D&D. Holy crap! 5 minutes was all I had left! And so started the crazy mad dash around the house. I made the bed, tossed their gazillion pillows back on in a semi-orderly fashion, filled up the cat food bowls, collected my clothes into one heap and was attempting to dump the overflowing trash bucket in their bathroom when I heard “We’re Home!”I still had the 4 bags of kitty litter trash sitting on their kitchen floor to toss and some weird looking possible-cat-vomit stain on their carpet to clean, and personal items scattered in their bathroom, not to mention my pile of clothes in their bedroom.

I should explain that they are a tidy couple and would expect their home be in the same condition they left it. Within two days of staying there, I had it shiteously messy.

Anyway, they were cool about the bit of mess left over. Or just too tired to care. I was paid, given a nice Vegas t-shirt and went on my way.

It was cold out, though not nearly as bad as the days before. I was prepared for it with layers of clothes I had not changed out of from yesterday morning. I was unshowered, all bundled up, and carrying my overstuffed bags. And wandering downtown. I felt very much like a hobo. I walked by a bank and a crazed-glassy eyed man was inside looking out, with his thumb and index finger in his mouth whistling. Loudly. Short continuous blasts. He took a breath and started again, looking quite content with his talent. I wondered if he was going to pass out.

Nothing is open early on Sunday. I made my way to South Station and typed this. I don’t want to go home yet, but I don’t know what else to do. I’ll wait for the shops to open, and wander around some more.