As a naturally look-on-the-bright-side-type gal, what I wanted to write about tonight was how lovely the Manse lawn is starting to look after Raymond (and to a lesser extent I) spent some time this bright sunny day raking up winter debris. But I kind of figure that no one is interested in reading about another person’s lawn, so I’ll stop right there. (This time, at least.) Instead let’s talk about The Ladybug Plague.
On one of our very first visits to the Manse, back in early 2012, we spotted a single ladybug in a window in the room that was once my dad’s study. “Oh, look!” I said to Raymond. “Isn’t it pretty? Aren’t ladybugs supposed to be good luck?”
Well, my good feelings toward ladybugs were shortlived. As we spent more time here in late winter and early spring last year, we experienced, and got thoroughly sick of, the phenomenon of the ladybugs appearing in droves as soon as we arrived at the Manse and turned the heat up. In ceiling lights, in windows, on floors. Bother bother bother!
We hoped that maybe 2012 was just a bad year for ladybugs and that this year would be better. So far, no such luck.
People, it is embarrassing when a ladybug drops from the ceiling into the hair of a dinner guest! (Even if the dinner guest deals with it with great equanimity, bless her heart.)
And it is tiresome to be constantly vacuuming them up and trapping and squishing them.
I no longer like ladybugs. They have worn away my patience, and don’t even get me started on how Raymond feels about all this.
I want them to fly away home, like the nursery rhyme says. Except I think our ladybugs are pretty convinced that the Manse IS home.