Back then you simply couldn't appreciate your Grammi's grim satisfaction in the writhing agony and demise of the Stomachs-on-Feet (as cynthia_h calls them) that ate the fruits of her labor.
Night after night, picking up literally HUNDREDS of slugs that ate punched-tin-lanterns out of my lettuce, cabbage, broccoli, and cauliflower as I cast around the beam of the flashlight, I did reach that point of
But I recovered my more peaceful nature after. I am somewhat relieved to feel again an unshakable internal conflict in seeing them suffer.
...still, what must be done, must be done.
You just haven't reached that point yet.
(Although with a childhood trauma like that hanging over you, you might end up surrendering the garden to the footed slimers.
This year, I'm working to get them before they grow up and I have to lay eyes on them. Have been diligent with DE, wheat bran, as well as the Iron Phosphate-bait. Initial casualties have been mostly little 1/4" snails.