As I sit here on my little siesta, listening to Saint Etienne and drinking crap coffee, I must tell you that I have an official earwig infestation in my house.

They're in my newspapers, my microwave, my camera equipment, my cereal, they're in everything.

I'm afraid this is turning into an Alfred Hitchcock movie, complete with earwigs eating my eyes out piecemeal. When someone finds my decayed corpse years later, they'll discover giant earwigs who've grown after feeding on my delectable flesh. They'll then feed on other tasty humans in my neighbourhood, and so on, until they achieve world domination. That's until the day when a hero will emerge who will finally say, "I shall crush these earwigs not with tissues, but with my bare fingers. Their crusts will crumble under the power of my thumb and my index finger."

But nevermind that. I just called the fumigation service, and hopefully I'll get this problem rid of once and for all.

I wished my cats would help.