After 20 years of not knowingly killing another living creature - except indirectly, with my consumption of meat, which is about 10% of the average American's consumption - hey wait a minute, now that I think about it, my meat-consumption-murder-guilt by volume is so low, so small, that I could probably roll it over into some unsuspecting American's wasted-food-guilt account without harm to him and with considerable benefit to my general well-being...
But, I digress.
After 20 years of not knowingly killing another living creature, I have decided that bugs are no longer off limits, and are indeed, fair game. Especially flying things. Flying things that come into open doors from the outside.
My apartment has 4 doors. The entry door, the door to the front balcony which looks toward the Mediterranean and the old town, and two onto the big balcony off the kitchen. None of which have screens.
(In fact, I'm not sure I've ever seen a screen in Europe - perhaps it's an American thing. Note for later consideration.)
And as the temperatures are warming, and as you want to air out your house after the stuffiness of winter, you leave the doors open for the spring air to blow through.
And in come these swarmy, buzzy things, dive bombing my face, yelling over the Netflix, and sleeping inside the clean cups in the dishdrain.
So earlier this week I decided I've had it. And I gave myself permission to become a murderer once again.