Snails

Snails are not my favorite animal in the world. I wouldn't even say they make my top five. I do feel sorry for them, though, because they aren't cute, or fuzzy, or anything that would make anyone like them much. Even bugs can get some people interested in them, such as etymologists, but I have no idea what they call people who are interested in snails, because I've never heard that anyone really is.

The other day I rescued a snail that was laboring across a grocery store parking lot. He'd have gotten stepped on or rolled over for sure, so I picked him up and moved him to a little grassy plot of ground, hopefully out of harm's way. I felt good about saving a life.

A couple days after that, I personally stepped on a snail by accident, squooshing it to oblivion as I was about to get into my car and head off to work. I heard the crunch under my foot before I ever even saw the poor pathetic little thing.

The irony, far from escaping me, made me feel depressed.

Today is gray and sulky, looking like it wants to rain but won't because that's exactly what people are expecting and why should it do what everyone expects it to do? It's unseasonably cold for May in Los Angeles, my fingers are icy as I type this, and I really hope I never step on a snail ever again.