Unexpected results

Unexpected results
I kept noticing small piles of rust colored granules on my cottage floors. oh yes abel says when I point it out to him. Those are from the bugs who are eating your house. When I built this house I used very cheap wood, and the bugs love that wood. Remember I warned you when I sold you the house. Bugs, eating my house, huh? That’s not good. Are they termites? no, they are not termites, they are pulillas. Eating my house huh? . What can I do to stop them? Poison, abel replies. Spray the wood with poison. Under the house you can spray used diesel oil, locals call it burn[ed]s oil and it will rid you of termites, but for pulillas you must use a poison you can only get at the vet and ag supply store in bri bri. So, last week I caught a ride with Richard, sauntered into the ag supply and stumbled thru enuff fractured Spanish to purchase two items: one was folier fertilizer for my baby flowering plants in my ever filling front yard. Sandra, who has lived across street from when abel owned it and the yard was bare, teases me, calling it my jungle. The second purchase was poison for pulillas. Two spray bottles completed my shopping, and I hitched back to Puerto, had a meal and then walked and hitched on home. The poison sat until this morn when I suddenly decided today was the day. I needed a sunny day, as if it smelled, meaning it was probably giving off toxic chemicals, I wanted it to dry by nitefall. I would hang at the beach until nitefall if necessary. The day began with full sun and I got mixed it with water and began to spray, only where the exposed wood showed evidence of bug damage. It was fun, and I went thru the whole house, the porch and hammock deck, and window shutters. There was no real feeling of poison and kill. Rather, it soon began to feel like caressing or cleansing the house, sort of like smudging with water. There was no smell at all, and I went about my day. I wasn’t expecting to feel anything, it was simply a maintenance chore that needed to be done. As the day went on, a curious phenomena slowly seeped into my consciousness. Ibegan to feel different. At first I thought is was simply relief that this semmingly major chore was finished and with relative ease. But then a new awareness came forth. The cottage itself felt different. Its hard to put it into words, but the cottage felt lighter, softer, almost happier. Could the departed pulillas have carried that negative a vibe? Or was the cottage itself responding to what it could only consider an act of loving kindness, in prolonging is life. I don’t want to get too woo woo on you, but as I sit and type this, it still feels different, and even tho I sprayed poison, its not a feeling of death, but of revitalized life.