What could be more devastating for a lover of books than to find that termites had found their way into them and in some instances gutted them entirely.
What ?.
This is what I found to-day when by chance I decided to move a few books in my book case in the bed room.
And what a disaster.
Not only had the buggers gotten into my treasury of books, they had also found and destroyed files about the purchase and creation of the place I call home.
I hate those vile insects.
I hate them almost as much as I hate the ants that will find my few favorite plants and eat all their leafage leaving the poor plants to struggle to survive with a few spikes and very few leaves to give them sustenance.
I hate the stupidity of it, as I hate the stupidity of killing of rhinoceros for their horns and elephants for their tusks.
All just to enhance the lives of a few humans.
I am a good person.
I let the mice/rats cavort in my kitchen at night.
I let the toad/frog into the house in the morning when it decides tthat it must spend the day under my couch.
I am a good person.
So why do termites think that they can invade my territory and destroy my joys in life, my books. Why ?
A pox on all termites and their kin.
And a sad good-bye to some wonderful treasures that have kept me sane these many years I have lived alone in the house on the hill of Mismaloya.
R.I.P.
4 comments:
Annegrete har også en særlig kærlighed for bøger - hun græd næsten da hun læste dette indlæg.
Your not alone you just have many small companions who you are not too fond of.
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