Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you know you’re being ridiculous, but can’t seem to help it? You envision people seeing you in your state of ridiculousness and cringe, but go on being ridiculous anyway? That’s how I felt last night. Our apartment is no stranger to bugs. In the past two and a half years, we’ve seen 112 sprickets (no exaggeration, that’s what our death count says currently), one enormous spider we named Wilfredo who miraculously escaped death and is probably feasting on sprickets in the basement, countless small spiders, mosquitoes, house flies and stink bugs. Last night, a stink bug must have shimmied its way into the house through one of our drafty windows and began flying around the living room, hitting itself against the light on the ceiling, recovering, and flying around again.
I hate any bug that flies or is above my head. It freaks me out knowing they could land on me somehow without me knowing it. It makes me feel very vulnerable. I usually end up running from the general direction of the insect in question with my hands flailing about to prevent it from landing on me. If you’ve ever seen a stink bug fly, it’s a little unsettling. At least it's unsettling to me. When a stink bug flies, it’s clumsy, haphazard, and totally unpredictable. Plus, they’re sticky and gross, so I really don’t want one on me. Upon seeing the stink bug, I ran into the dining room, armed myself with a fly swatter (we have one hanging in every room in preparation for spricket attacks), and set about finding a way to kill this thing. To no avail. It stayed near the light fixture on the ceiling, so I couldn’t reach it. Every time I went into the living room, it started to fly again, so I ran back out.* On one of these expeditions, I managed to grab my phone from the table. For about 10 minutes, I basically stood in the dining room, fly swatter in hand, watching the thing. I had no idea what to do. I texted Kurt, who was asleep in our bedroom, “If you’re awake, please come kill this bug. I’m trapped.” No answer.
Duke, meanwhile, was beside himself. He wanted to kill this bug in the worst way. He spent this whole time walking around the room, staring at it, meowing, jumping on the coffee table and pawing at it, jumping off the coffee table and walking around again. Over and over and over. He was very distraught. Probably because I told him he wasn’t allowed to eat until he killed it. As a sidenote, I think it’s time to train him to leap 8 feet in the air for next time.
Finally, I ran across the living room to the bedroom, keeping the bug in sight to make sure it didn’t land on me, and woke Kurt, much to his dismay. He was not happy. But he came to my rescue and killed it like a loving husband.
Needless to say, I felt like a complete idiot. If Kurt hadn’t been home, what would I have done? Slept in the dining room? There was no way I could’ve reached it myself. Kurt is 6’5” and had to stand on the couch to reach it. And there was no way I could just leave it there and go on with my life.
I could imagine people seeing me crouched in the dining room with a fly swatter, staring into the living room and thinking I was completely crazy. At one point, I even resorted to trying to spray it with the spray bottle we use to train Duke not to scratch. The water had no effect whatsoever on the bug. It didn’t even budge. But seriously, what did I think the bug was going to do to me? Why do I have this irrational fear of flying insects? I consider myself to be a rather intelligent, independent, capable woman, yet this little stink bug rendered me completely helpless.
I know stink bugs are completely harmless and I have no issues killing them when they’re not flying or perched far above my head. I’ve even managed to kill a few sprickets when Kurt wasn’t home and came out unscathed (normally, I bring spiders outside. I don’t like to kill them, or any bug, but sometimes you have no choice). This experience made me realize I need to learn to get over this fear so I can take care of myself when Kurt’s not around. Maybe killing bugs is not really something you’d classify as “taking care of yourself”, but other than lifting really heavy things, it’s really the only thing I feel I can’t do by myself in my own home. My fear of sprickets even keeps me from going into our dungeon of a basement, which could be a problem if a fuse is ever blown while Kurt’s away. So I guess this is going under my 2012 Resolutions heading. Check back in 2013 to see how far I’ve come.
*This is not the first time this has happened to me. Last year, I was trapped in the kitchen for about 15 minutes when a stink bug started flying in huge circles around the light fixture in the dining room. To be fair, when they fly, they sound like a bee or wasp, so that’s what I thought it was at first. It finally hit itself so hard on the light that it flew away and died. I never found the body.
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