When we were kids my brother had an ant farm. For a few weeks we stared at the ants in their tunnels, working hard pushing things around. Then the ants all died. For many more weeks we still stared at the ant farm. Yup, not much happening again today.
A lot of real life is as exciting as that ant farm or the cereal box. But suddenly I have a trendy penthouse bar right in my kitchen. I swore I wasn't going to be one of those vermibloggers who post photos of decomposing food. So avert your eyes from the compost, and view, gossip reporter-like, the swinging scene just under the rim. Clearly, this is where the elite meet and drop hundreds of dollars on bottle service. For all I know, the worms are engaging in hermaphroditic vermisex while looking out over the midnight skyline.
I really don't have a clue why the worms hang out here. They don't seem interested in the corresponding area at the other end of the worm bin. I want them to go back down to work in the soil factory! Maybe these are trust fund worms who don't have to work for a living.