…last night, regarding my drive to find a new home.

I was coming home to a tiny apartment, only to find the living room full of small black birds. They weren’t threatening; they weren’t even pooping. They were just crowding up the place, tired and trapped. I forced a couple of windows open and they all flew away, in a more or less orderly fashion.

I turned around to find the entry way equally filled with large crawling bugs, all the way up the narrow walls. They were also morose and benign. When I propped the door open, all the tiny critters slowly but steadily vacated.

That left me with a slovenly roommate, who had apparently been oblivious to the birds and the insects, but was adamant about something he’d just decided—that, from now on, I had to go sleep in the laundry room.

Instead, I followed the friendly advice of the birds and the bugs, and split.

No, I don’t know what it all means.