The Hills Are Alive With The Sound of Chirping
Well, actually it's not the hills so much as it's the basement. And that chirping noise is not necessarily a good one either. I think I'd taken it for granted just how bloody loud a cricket can be. At first the peculiar chirping noises appeared to be a metal pipe that was vibrating or rattling oddly. Then after it started and stopped three more times, it was apparent that a cricket had invaded the basement.
This was by no means an aggressive, Viking-like "raped the horses, rode off on the women, and pruned the hedges of many small villages" invasion. Yet I think I almost would have welcomed a burly Olgar the Dreaded storming down the stairs and demanding I submit. My response would be, "certainly, but you must shower first."
For a moment we would be at an impasse. The Olgar in all likelihood would cave my head in. There's a reason his last name is "the Dreaded" after all.
But back to the cricket: I'm as fond of nature as the next person. I let butterflies dance around the backyard, and kill the unruly mosquitos who dare think they're good enough to suck my O-negative. I read National Geographic and watch the Discovery Channel. Yet when a cricket is chirping at 11pm with all the surround sound capacity of a Dolby 5.1 speaker set, I am not amused.
Worst of all, the little green bugger had managed to get himself on one of the ceiling pipes. I outwitted the small greenish insect by devising a cunning plan that involved a ladder, a flashlight and happy, happy thoughts. Then the cricket outwitted me by jumping onto the floor. At least I had first presumed it was the floor. Then I felt something climbing up the side of my arm.
Yes, it appeared that the cricket had miscalculated his landing and was now perched on me like some erstaz parrot. So I cupped a hand over him to prevent him from escaping, saunted up to the front porch and let him sing his mating call outside where I couldn't hear him.
I'm sure there's some sort of poignant "live and let live" message here, or perhaps a wonderful sermon about "striking a balance between the coexistance between human civilization (such as it is) and nature". But it's late at night and I'd rather not spend so much time sounding sanctimonious. So good night!
Today's Lesson: the bottom-most button on a tuxedo jacket is always left undone. Why? Well...I'm sure there's a good reason for it, tradition and all, but damned if I know the reasoning. And if you only have one button on your tuxedo jacket, it stays buttoned.
posted by Phillip at 7:01 PM
