Mother buggin' bugs

Great White Dispatch
Notes from Damn Near Canada
No. 7
10/14/08
13:50

Halfway through October, and it's 70 degrees here in Minnesota. Needless to say, I'll take it. The leaves are falling, the wind is blowing, and so far this has been as nice an autumn as I can remember. One problem. Ladybugs. Our porch is closed in with 12 5-by-4 screened windows and last weekend I woke up to find every inch of the screens covered in the little orange bastards. This is INSIDE, mind you:

It sucks. Thousands of the spotted pricks. We used to keep all the doors and windows open, but now we have to button the house up because I'm afraid I'll wake up to find every surface looking like Lindsay Lohan's ass. We had this problem one fall in Akron, but nothing like we got here. I realize one cold snap will be the little buggy holocaust, but then I'll have to deal with this on a grand scale:

Even with the nice weather, they die off in legions, covering the porch floor in tiny carcasses that snap like bubble wrap when you step on them. Which wouldn't be all bad if they didn't let loose such a stank when they get crushed. The smell is something like dirt, socks and old Doritoes. Hundreds die every night, hundreds more replace them. Geh. You walk outside, something lands on the back of your neck, you swat it and now you smell like an old man’s feet. And they keep coming. Even little Tulip’s chin is susceptible:

Sigh. Bring on the winter.