"All Day, Staring at the Ceiling Making Friends with [Crickets] on my Wall"

The cricket on my wall has completely occupied my attention.

I decided not to squish it. I don't have the heart or the guts for it. Probably because I read Shoebag at an impressionable age. I haven't been able to kill a bug since without feeling bad.

The book is about a cockroach who turns into a boy and feeds his cockroach family rye bread because he loves them.

I mean, honestly. That is just disgusting. And now I can't squish bugs because of it.

Anyway, I decided to live with the glass half full, consider that cricket good luck and move on with my life, but I can't stop watching the thing.

It is crawling all the way up my wall, shaking it's foot each time before it takes another step. Which, admittedly, is disgusting, but also fascinating.

It's like watching a National Geographic show. I am disturbed, to say the least, but can't change the channel. Even now, as I type, I am watching this cricket climb up the wall. Step by step.

In fact, halfway through that sentence I stopped to scream because the bug finally fell.

I was hoping it wouldn't fall. Not only because it happened to be right above a large pile of bags full of clothes, but also because it was a little inspiring watching it climb all the way up my wall.

I'm not exactly sure where it was trying to get to, or what it planned to do once it got there, but it was climbing, step by step, reaching for the sky--or the ceiling.

I wonder if it was scared of falling. (By the end there, it looked a little scared.)

I wonder if it knew where it was going. (Probably it didn't. If it did know, the fact that there is nothing but a ceiling at the top of my wall shows obvious poor planning on its part.)

I wonder if it was disappointed when it fell. (I can't be sure on this one. Actually, it looked like it jumped. I know, GROSS, right?)

Mostly, I wonder if that cricket died from the impact of the fall.

I'm kind of hoping it did.

And I'm kind of wishing I would have just squished the thing. Seriously. I don't know how to deal with this situation now. There is an ambitious and probably alive cricket in my room. I mean, what if it uses its perseverance to climb into my bed? Or what if it decides to make a bed in my shoe? These are all things I am sure it is perfectly capable of.

This is gross.

The vacuum is on standby.