Showing posts with label boxelder bugs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boxelder bugs. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Farmhouse bug

We live in an old farmhouse. I chose to live here, so I don’t have many complaints, but this year the boxelder bugs are awful.

Stage one, or education: Look, boys, a boxelder bug. They don’t bite. Use this tissue and pick it up and put it in the trash.

Stage two, or familiarity: My boys made Lego apartments for the boxelder bugs. I asked Ty to throw one away and he told me no, it was his pet. I told him then he would never run out of pets.

Stage three, or mild annoyance: There seem to be a lot. We start flicking them away from us or at each other.

Stage four, or major annoyance: A friend was coming over and there were so many at that moment that I started counting them as I picked them up. There were too many to fit into one tissue. Moved to using wet wipes.

Stage five, or wet wipes cost too much: Every time you turn around, you see one. I got out the vacuum cleaner and left it in the living room for easy access. What a nice, decorative addition!

Stage six, or involving the kids: We also got out our handy bug vacuum, which sucks up and kills the bugs. My sons took over and used it at least 20 times a day.

Stage seven, or declaration of war: One tried to eat Kris’ grapefruit. One perched on my adorable baby’s head. Kris resealed the front door to help prevent this next year.

Stage eight, or the stage I didn’t know existed until right now: As I’m typing this, one just flew into my forehead and fell on my keyboard. Worst of all? I wasn’t even surprised.

I blamed it all on my house, and how living here is a lot like living outside. Boxelder bugs aren’t just on boxelders, they also love maple trees. My house is also smack dab in the middle of giant, buggy maple trees.

Then, a happy moment! Today on Facebook a friend posted: “Dear Boxelder Bugs, I didn’t mind sharing my home with you at first, but you have taken advantage of the situation. You have moved in by the hundreds. Please leave or I will resort to squishing you.”

Why does this make me happy? Because she lives in a brand new house in a brand new neighborhood. It’s not my old farmhouse’s fault after all. I don’t feel so alone!

Not that I ever feel that alone. Not with all these pets around.