“Pest” control
Today I got harassed by a pest control solicitor. He rang the doorbell multiple times in succession; a great way to kick things off. I told him immediately that I was going to pass. He kept talking and rattled off a list of names of people in the neighborhood who use their service. I don’t care. I tell him I’m busy (it’s the middle of my work day) and I’m not interested. As he leaves he says he’ll come back later in the afternoon. I hoped he wasn’t actually that much of a jerk and it was a slip from sales pitch habits, which it seemed to be the case as the day went on.
At around 6 pm I was doing some weeding out front by the sidewalk, and guess who shows up. He’s getting geared up to win this time, and I interrupt and tell him flat, “I don’t want to talk about this.” This did successfully end the exchange, but not without him getting pissy and pointing at my plants with a, “I can see you’ve got aphids but whatever.”
So first of all, I don’t owe any solicitor an explanation for why I don’t want their services, and certainly not when they so incredibly rude. But aside from the fact that I don’t ever want to be pushed into something by a person showing up uninvited to my house, I have real concerns about pesticides and chemicals being sprayed around, particularly in regards to environmental health and not wiping out tons of innocent bystanders like bees. This whole exchange put me in a foul mood, and I rage-weeded for a while while trying to not let it taint the whole rest of my evening.
And then, of all the things to happen, I rip out a handful of something-or-other, and this adorable little moth flutters onto my hand. And just… sits there. So beautiful, so perfect. This fuzzy little life. I hold my hand out to some flowers, and it crawls over and starts drinking the nectar. I could have cried, I was so happy. This. This is what my yard to be. A place for life, not for poison.
