Last night, in order to counter the burning smell

of my croissant in the toaster because of all of these little crumbs

that need to be emptied out, 

I opened the kitchen window. 

 

I let in one of those mosquito/daddylongleg combos,

with a leg-span the width of my hand. 

 

I swat at him until he fled to a corner underneath my stove. 

Then I squeezed in my dishtowel and I got the sucker out. 

With a yell, I threw the whole towel into the already crowded sink

and turned on the water. 

I flushed that guy out.

But I wasn’t absolutely sure, and I didn’t want to unfold the towel or any such nonsense. 

And so, that towel has been sitting there even while I do dishes,

clogging

everything

up. 

Gross. 

And so, I am working on that sink now, and everything that is clogging stuff up. 

Maybe this is another moment of growing up. 

Emptying the toaster, cleaning crap up. 

 

Making sure you finish what you start and for goodness sake, make sure the squeeter is dead.