Murderer!!! Hopefully...

Ok, so last night was fun on a few different levels.

The Business of Being Born was actually a cool movie - I thought it was incredibly thought provoking. I know it's old news, but it really is amazing how much of the world is run by money, profit, etc. Wow. If I ever had a kid, I'd probably go with a midwife.

We also saw a lot of boobs and vaginas. Which would normally thrill my husband to bits, but these were birthing boobs and vaginas. So it was not so much of a turn-on for him. Or maybe it was. But I don't want to know about that particular fetish...

When I got home from work last night with my lovely Byerly's fresh caught Norwegian salmon filets (ha ha), I ran a load of laundry down to the laundry room. As I was walking back up the stairs, I saw a boxelder bug. Now, for most people, this would not be a cause for concern. But for me, it was. I should probably fill you in on the back story here.

Last Saturday, my husband was mowing the lawn. Our windows were open, and I heard him shut off the lawn mower. I got up and looked out the window, and saw him inspecting one of the trees in our backyard. Then he started the lawnmower up again, and finished the yard. I thought nothing of it. When he came in the house, the following conversation took place:

Hubby: Hey - do we have fire ants in Minnesota?
Me: What? Fire ants? I don't think so.
Hubby: Maybe you should google it.
Me: I don't have to google it. There are no fire ants this far north.
Hubby: Well, you have to come see something. Put a bra and some shoes on.
Me: Is this "something" possibly fire ant-related? I don't want to go see "something."
Hubby: And make sure your shoes are close-toed, just in case. No flip-flops.

Ok, so I slap on a bra (I like to let the girls loose on the weekends), and throw on a pair of crappy old tennis shoes. We head out to the backyard and I can see from quite some distance away that my littlest maple tree is bleeding. Huh. Isn't this something you would call the Vatican about? My tree is weeping bloody tears? Anyway, as we get closer, I see that every square inch of the surface of that tree is covered in bugs. Little red bugs. And they are all over the ground. I swear to God, there were thousands of them. I swiftly removed myself from the bug-infested out-of-doors, and went upstairs to google whatever the hell those things were. We quickly ascertained that they were, in fact, baby boxelder bugs. And we needed to murder them. Because if we didn't kill them now, they would get bigger and move into my house for the winter. And even though you might not see the boxelder bugs in your house (or in your attic, or in your siding, etc), you would definitely smell them when they died. Especially if all 15,000 of them moved in. So we decided we'd run sometime in the next day or two and get some bug spray or whatever kills these things.

Fast forward to last night. Boxelder bugs had been forgotten. We bought bug spray at Target a couple of nights ago, but never got around to using it. We got caught up in the rat race of life, man. Anyway, I saw a boxelder bug on the way up the stairs, and then I saw two more in the dining room. Huh. So when my husband got home from work, we decided it was time to kill them. So we read the directions, and hooked the hose up to some kind of nozzle-y thing on the bottle, etc. We walk to the back of the house, and the tree that had previously been covered in bugs was now standing there, bug free. Mocking us. Where the hell did all the bugs go? Then we turned to face the back of our house.

Oh. There they are. Oh, and look - it seems as though they've multiplied! Goody.

We couldn't figure out if the spray was safe to use on siding, but we sprayed the hell out of it anyway. I was expecting to hear hissing sounds coming from each individual bug, as it writhed in pain and agony. But nothing happened. They stopped moving while they were being sprayed, but as soon as the water went away, they carried on as usual. Very anti-climactic.

So tonight when I get home, I'm heading out to the backyard to (hopefully) see the bloody carnage. If not, I've decided it's my husband's problem. I can't possibly be bothered with pest control. Not when I have SO MUCH going on. I mean, this little bug-killing episode last night cut into like half an hour I could have spent doing laundry or cleaning or cooking dinner or whatever it is that good little wives do for their husbands.

Really it just cut into primo wine-drinking time. And damn it, I likes my wine-drinking time!

Anyhoo, after we sprayed our bug farm, I made delicious salmon and salad for dinner and then we watched boobs and vaginas and placentas and amniotic fluid spurts. T'was the perfect end to a perfect evening.