Had to move my shit out of the storage unit this morning because there’s an exterminator spraying it down.
To be an exterminator, you must know about the creatures you exterminate. You must study wasps, termites, carpenter ants, rats, etc.
You have to be an expert. Because when you go to spread termite poison you have to know that the termite colony will have placed an egg chamber at a certain spot relative to a wall, a gestation chamber here, a feeding chamber there. You have to know almost like E. O. Wilson knew the elegantly elaborate social gradations in termite society; the baroque architecture bored out of 2 x 4’s by these blind and delicate engineers. How can you not see some poetry in it? How, when you learn about ant societies; how like our own they are, but also how exotically alien– how can your soul not be somewhat captivated by these marvels of creation?
And then you have to kill them. You have to take poison and spray it where you know the workers have labored to carve out a royal chamber for the queen, where nurses tend to the larvae; where hunters bring back nourishment for these mewling and vulnerable infants, literally defenseless, but safe in the loving care of the nest. You have a mental picture of the rich life going on in this colony, and you have to systematically destroy it.
I mean, you must become jaded to it after a while. But still. I wonder if there was ever an exterminator AVATAR who himself became a termite and led a rebellion against his own kind.
delicioustacos 
give us more shit on old ladies!
I got another one in the queue.
This is why I don’t eat meat.