Woodlice

Every damn evening there’s woodlice on the tiles around the back door. I don’t know why they come in. I think they must see the lights of the house and mistake them for safety. They get the opposite, of course. When a woodlouse gets inside it pretty quickly dehydrates and dies.

I don’t like bugs of any kind but I try to put up with the woodlice constantly doing what’s worst for them. Some of them are lucky and I see them in time, crawling across the floor oblivious to the danger and oblivious to the disgust they’re causing. Then I get the dustpan and sweep them up with the many, many bodies of their fellow woodlice and put them outside.