It isn't fraught with spirituality or human drama. It is downright bestial in fact.
The polar vortex exhausted my supply of ready firewood behind the burner. A warm and cuddly 30-degree day moved me to replenish from a ragged pile of cottonwood and oak out back, frozen through for months. The chore almost done, I placed one billet on top of the burner to dry the surface moisture.
A few minutes later I happened to glance at it, and my wondering eyes spied a happy little black bug. I named him Lazarus. Then I squished him.
It's too early for bugs in the house.