Paul and I went for a lovely (mostly in the shade, so we didn’t go up the hill) walk at Oakalla (which Katie spells Ocala, which makes me laugh). While we were there we saw a badly proportioned slap fight between a kind of wasp I haven’t seen before and could not subsequently identify and a kind of ant I didn’t identify.
The wasp was more or less minding its own business and scraping up moistened dirt, presumably for nest building activities, while an ant located it and started attacking the wasp. This it accomplished by running up to the wasp’s thorax at full fucking chat and booting it in the non-equivalent of the ribs. I saw it happen about eight times, Paul about three. It was thrilling, and frankly hilarious, because the wasp outweighs the ant by about 20 to 1, and yet the ant gave much better than he got.
Dishwasher’s running. It wasn’t quite full but if you wait too long you have no coffee cups, so there.
I am feeling a little less messed up today, we shall see. I do manage to practice on the twangy box every day.