What Really Bugs Me

Throughout my years, I’ve come to realize that I have a unique relationship with bugs (scientific name).  Bugs dig me.  I wish I could say the attraction is mutual but it is not.  Mosquitoes are the culprits I most often find in my presence and I pay for it dearly.  I make numerous donations to the Mosquito Blood Bank & Trust and all I get are mountainous welts of itchiness and trips to the store for cortisone cream.  While these bugs are extremely attracted to me, they are equally repulsed by my wife.  She tells me that I need to come up with a different word to describe their relationship.  I tell her no. I asked my wife why she never seemed to get attacked by mosquitoes while I was constantly involved in gladiatorial combat.  She told me it must be because I am so sweet and followed that up with quite an impressive eye roll and several exaggerated and unnecessary retching sounds. 

Recently we visited a local wildlife refuge for her birthday.  The boat dropped us off on the beach and we got to see all sorts of birds that I will never remember the names of.  I stepped off the beaten path to check some tires (this is a euphemism for using the bathroom.  I learned this on a road trip then the driver pulled to the side of an interstate on-ramp to check his tires.  This did not make sense to me then and it does not make sense to me now but I digress.)  During the middle of my process, I found myself engulfed in a cloud of the little bloodsuckers.  This was not a situation conducive to tire checking.  I did my best to completely kick said tires and then ran away, daintily flailing my arms. 

My wife remained unscathed but insisted that I apply the bug spray that we brought with us.  Funny story though, that insect repellant actually acts as a horsefly attractor.  Two different flies bit me on the back of my leg.  I wanted to go home but we still had two hours before the boat came back to pick us up.  So instead, I stuck out my bottom lip and pouted for the rest of the trip.  My wife obviously had the best birthday buddy of all time.

While I strongly dislike getting stung and bitten by bugs, I would not say that I am afraid of them.  Except for cockroaches.  I hold a very strong disdain for cockroaches.  I try to keep myself in decent shape and think of myself as a credible athlete.  That being said, I can never, ever kill these bugs.  I try to stomp on them but cockroaches are wily fellows and I usually end up hitting nothing but the concrete or tile floor and hurting my knee.  Sadly, this is my cross to bear.  

I took a soda to bed with me one night when I still lived with my parents in Louisiana.  This is apparently how I rebel, I drink caffeine after 6 p.m.  I was a hell-raiser in the truest sense.  After several hours of cola induced tossing and turning, I drifted off to sleep.  Sometime in the middle of the night, a light scratching sound woke me up.  I reached over to turn on my lamp and two inches from my wrist, a very large cockroach was hanging out on my soda can.  Allow me to foreshadow a little bit:  I was about to have a bad time.  That roach, and soda can by association, was now my mortal enemy so I did what any self-respecting entomophobe would do, I slapped it silly.  My silly slap was ill timed and horribly aimed so the roach fell straight onto my bed and got lost among my sheets.   I was in a blind rage at this point and by blind rage I of course mean paralyzed with fear.  I started beating my mattress with my intimidating fists of glory in hopes that I would land a blow to my exoskeletoned nemesis.  To my horror though, I could not find any site of him.  I even ripped the mattress off the bed but this little devil escaped.  Most normal people would call it a night and go back to sleep.  Not me, that bedroom was now blighted.  I did the only thing that made sense to me.  I went and got in bed with my sister.  Try explaining to your father and your alpha sister why you are in her bed, curled into the fetal position and sucking your thumb while your own mattress is off the box spring and sheets are scattered all over the room.  This was not my proudest moment to be sure but we got past it once I grew accustomed to my family’s judgment eyes. 

Whether I’m on a beach or doing battle in the bedroom, insects and I are forced to coexist.  I am not necessarily happy about this but these are the facts of my life.  Who knows, maybe mosquitoes will decide that I am not worth their time and cockroaches will leave me in peace.  

I doubt it though.