November 5, 2010

• Bug Off

  So I'm sitting at my desk, trying to sort out my thoughts for a Bible Study I thought I was about to have, and I hear this sound. 

  It's the sound of a thick bug hurling its body against my window.  On the inside.  I'm sure by now, most of you are familiar with that sound.  And because of my super-trained ear (there was a MINOR infestation) I could tell it was one of those hexagonal stink bugs.  The thought going through my mind was, Hey, he's not hurting me, so I'll just let him be.  He'll probably just die by himself anyway, and hopefully by the time I find him, his body will be sufficiently decomposed that I could just suck him up with a vacuum without a second thought. 

  

  (Yes, that is a picture of a bona-fide stinkbug.)  Appeased by this idea, I continued reading.  

  And then I heard a buzzing.  You know, as of something beastly flying.  Flying around my chamber doors.  (Thanks, Poe.)

  The bug was clearly migrating.  I heard it, its wings clacking more than buzzing, almost metallic in its inefficiency.  And then, just as the buzzing was loudest against my ear, I heard this:

  Dead silence. 

  Although I could swear I heard landing gears go up and close with a clack before this happened, only one thing was not debatable: I was 99.9% sure that the thing was on me. 

  I mean, bugs don't really freak me out.  I've escorted at least a handful (that's a gross thought) of them out the door in plastic cups of various sizes throughout the past few weeks.  Not all at once.  But there's a difference between a bug in a cup and a bug at some undisclosed location on your body.  

  Do you get me?

  So I calmly walk into the kitchen, trying to pat down my hair (nightmare story about a cicada flying into my mane when I was in high school.  I think we both had a heart attack.)  I flapped my shirt against my back, hoping to encourage flight.  If you note the above picture, you'll know that if these guys want to hang on, they can hang on.  

  I turn my head over behind my right shoulder (as best I could) in attempt to see if it's on my back. 

  And there, right on my shoulder, the creepo sat, about 3 inches from my nose, glaring at me.  I could almost hear it say, You trying to kill me, lady?! 

  I won't say exactly what transpired over the next few seconds, but the story ends with the creepo doing circles around the inside of my toilet bowl as I mercilessly flushed him down the toilet.  I normally let these guys fly off outside, and after I calmed down, I felt bad.  My arbitrary (to him) execution of justice might've seemed so...  cruel.  If Creepo had more than a pin-sized brain, that is.  

  For some reason, imagining the brain of a stinkbug creeps me out even more.  A squished brain even more.  I'm stopping now, I promise. 

  So what did I learn from this? 

  I decided not to feel guilty at my act of extermination.  I mean, the dude didn't belong in my house.  What was I thinking, that we could peacefully cohabitate?  That I could be friends with that which I despise?  When his friends were out in the open, I got rid of them.  But this one...  this one I thought I could let stick around.  And then he got me. 

  This is going to sound really contrived and a little clichéd now, but I'm going to do it anyway.

  Sometime we let certain aspects of our lives be.  Just because it's not bothering anyone.  Because it's hidden.  Because there is a slight potential for co-habitation.  Because it's trouble to find it and eradicate it.  

  But don't be fooled.  It will find you.  It will land on you.  It will make you scream like those people you make fun of on those viral videos.  

  Get rid of it.  It does not belong with you. 

   

  "But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. So then, dear friends, since you are looking forward to this, make every effort to be found spotless, blameless and at peace with him."  2 Peter 3:13f

  "...What fellowship can light have with darkness?" 2 Corinthians 6:14b

  • 6:49 pm
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