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[Ingrid's looking uncharacteristically somber today, staring into her coffee mug as though it held the secrets of life.]

I'd always thought myself as someone who could adapt to anything. Working with the children I did, living the life I have; I thought I could handle any change. But it seems I've grown so accustomed to my routines without realizing it.

The people, places, and the things of grand significance. Those things are easy to miss when they are taken. I expected that; I was ready for that. I thought I was ready for that. But I find myself missing the small things too. The way my husband made a cup of coffee, the walk to school, reading the morning paper in the courtyard, listening to the students chatter about things that always seem so intense and important when you're young. I think I may miss those small things more than the big ones.

[She chuckles, but there's no joy in it.]

This may just be the talk of an old lady feeling her age, but indulge me so I don't feel so dramatic for this little episode. What are the things, big and small, you miss?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And if it is dead you'd rather not see it anyway, right?

No, I'd rather not but it is easier to deal with a dead bug than something that crawls strangely.

Guess you've got a point there. Best not to have to deal with them in the first place though I bet, yes?

Oh, I agree.

Kinda funny when I think about it. Even in places where there aren't many people, there are tons of bugs. They really are adaptable little things. Guess they had to have something going for them.

Disgusting things usually are the things to always survive. I think they realize no one wants them around and live just out of spite.

My theory was along the lines of "sheer population." There are lots of ants in an anthill, for example.

Ah, very true. Still disgusting, but true.

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