Dies irea.

Last week I killed a squirrel. The little bugger darted out towards the front passenger side of my car, and before the little guy knew it he'd been nailed. I was really sad, what with it being my first squirrel homicide and all. So I thought about crying. I was processing my emotions about the little fella when Verdi's Dies Irea came on the classical radio station I was listening to. That translates to day of wrath. Yikes. And I realized, again, how funny and ironic life can be. So I laughed all the way to work. I still feel bad for the little guy, though. Rest in peace, buddy.