I dislike bugs

It’s about that time of year again where all the little robins fly out and lay eggs and a young boy’s fancy turns to love. Wait, no, that’s spring.
Well, since California has one season, Heat Exhaustion, it’s hard to tell what’s what. But somehow the ants and spiders know, because they decide to spend the season freeloading in my guest house!
I guess it’s better than Pennsylvania’s one season, Overcast, but do you see the ants and spiders taking refuge in people’s homes in the winter? No. Ruled by the whimsy of evolution, the wintertime instinct kicks in, and they roll over and die like every insect should.
I am ruthless with ants. I squish them into a paper towel and wish I knew some way to inflict more pain in their last dying wiggle. Spiders…not so ruthless. I kind of do the squealing girl thing and close my eyes and point until Justin rolls his eyes, and we sort of stand there squealing and rolling until the spider trots off, giggling, to safety.
We had a fly problem for about a week, but I trained Scamp to eat flies. By “trained,” I of course mean I discovered him eating a fly once and was both disgusted and amazed at his hunter abilities which, until that point, I thought consisted solely of sneaking up on my pajama pants’ string and wrestling it into submission. I wish I could train the spiders to eat the ants, but they insist on spinning elaborate webs to catch the flies that Scamp has already eaten and giggling at my squeals. Damn spiders.

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