sparkwood

The world makes so little sense and yet I continue to fight bravely onward. Today I actually sprayed the wasp nest on my back porch with wasp killer spray and then ran back into the house for several hours. I moved around quietly, like Anne Frank, all day in case a faction of wasp survialists attempted to strike back. As night fell all was still. I think I killed the wasps. Victory is mine. Do all victories tinged with such guilt?