Around this time every year when I was growing up, the ladybugs would arrive. Or maybe they would arrive earlier, I can’t exactly remember. But I do remember them coming in swarms and taking up residence along our window panes. Hundreds of ladybugs bunched up in the corners, a red and black speckled mass of bugs.
They never really bothered me as a kid. They were kind of pretty and a sign that spring was on the way.
We haven’t been invaded in quite the same way. Instead of clumps of them I spot three or four here and there. But they’re here. And by here I mean they’re EVERYWHERE and it’s grossing me out.
They’re in my bathroom.
They’re in my bedroom.
They’re in my kitchen.
Last night I was cooking and one fell from the range hood and was thisclose to landing in my dinner. Ewwwwww.
Michael’s solution is to trap them, then leave them. If he sees one on the window, he opens it, traps the ladybug on the other side, and shuts the window. I, on the other hand, tend to flick them across the room to be vacuumed up later.
These solutions are all well and good until it becomes a ladybug carcass. For all I know, the other ladybugs see their formerly not-dead carcass-friend and are coming after the murderers who put him there.
Proof? One just dive-bombed my face. Flew right into my cheek and was met with a corresponding “ARRRRGHHHH!!!!” from a surprised me. I don’t know where it flew off to, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to rally the troops.
I would go and hide, but apparently nowhere is safe!