Poor Fella!

It may be snowy out there today, but two Friday's ago was a warm day, and apparently it was warm enough to fool Mother Nature a little bit because there was a swarm of mosquitoes around my car as I was leaving work. I got in the car, started it up, let it warm up for a minute, and then drove out of the parking lot and headed for home. I was maybe a tenth of a mile down the road when I realized I had a stowaway; one of the mosquitoes had ended up in the car with me and was accompanying me to my house.

Once I got home, I did what I always do in that situation: I carefully shooed the little guy out of my car and on his way. And as I did so I thought the same thought I always think at that moment: Poor fella. I bet that guy has NO idea where he is now.

I know it's just an almost mindless insect, but I still can't get out of my head the idea of what's running through its little mind. "Whew," I imagine it saying, "am I glad to get out of there! I kept running into SOMETHING but I couldn't see it. And now I'm free and--hey! What is going on here? Where the hell AM I? What--? What--? Louise? Mom? Uncle Louie? Somebody? Help!"

He's completely lost now. I probably should have just smashed him.