An earwig's life

Under the pale electric light of the bathroom I discover early in the morning a tiny earwig moving slowly on the bathtub. I watch it move. The dark brown insect stands out against the whiteness of the infinite basin. It crawls along the bottom. As soon as it tries to move upwards it slides down. Infinitesimal excursions up and down a potential well. The tub walls are slippery territory, the basin confines the tiny insect, its only way out the waste drain in one end. Back in the bathroom in the early evening I find the earwig still on the tub. It still moves about slowly and aimlessly, with no direction home, as the rolling stone the folk singer sang about. The earwig must have had a hell of an exciting day. You call your day routine, commonplace, ordinary? Hell you do.