I have an infestation of tiny, bity red ants in my bedroom. But I'm too afraid that I'll find something horrible if I look for the source...you know, like a billion ants under my bed, feeding on the severed head of my neighbor's dog. So I just wait for the little bastards to crawl out into the open and then I spray them with Clorox.
The other day my mom called me from middle-of-nowhere France, where she's spending the summer at some hippy art retreat. I zoned out in the middle of the conversation (as I tend to do), but then I heard her say, "...and the fucking donkey woke the whole goddamn village up last night!"
I've got to start listening to the beginnings of people's stories.