7.24.2009

The Post About Ladybugs and Why They Should Go. Really.

Where were we?

Oh, yeah. The ladybugs were coming.
Ladybug Glass
Some of you probably need special circumstances to fall asleep: white noise from a fan, the comic stylings of Conan O'Brien, or a body pillow with the sharpie face of a Jonas Brother. I need to be on my stomach to drift off to dreamland. The logistics of an arm wrapped in plaster and codependency and the weight of my immobility prevented me from sleeping in such a manner.

So I was relegated to my father's La-Z-Boy for a little over three months.

Winter in Alabama brings with it all types of critters who want to be inside, including ladybugs. Their purpose in life is to migrate to popcorn ceilings and wait for unsuspecting teenagers with broken bones and broken spirits to get sleepy. And then they swoop in for the kill.


The scene plays out every time like you think. Evil ladybug plots her attack. Evil ladybug zeroes in on my face. I try to protect myself. I miss the armrest and find myself tearing up from the pain of a 45lb decoupage appendage swinging in the breeze of my failed defense.


Pavlov's Dogs = Ladybugs' Jamie.


Is that enough to hate them? Yes

Ladybug Throw
Enough to be scared so silly you must run from your office arms-a-flailing when one appears on the window sill? Probably not.


But wait.


Eight days after having the bane of my existence sawed off my arm, I was writing a paper at the dining room table. Ladybugs appeared. I decided my victimization was over. I rolled up the previous month's Better Homes and Gardens, climbed on top of the table and began to fight. My surge was showing success as one by one, those monsters began to fly out the open door.


But then I was down and in pain. Was I hit? Was I attacked from my weak right side?


No.

Without warning, I had walked off the dining room table and subsequently broken my foot.


That break took six weeks to heal.


My phobia of ladybugs has yet to do so.


{Images: Jamie - items friends have purchased for me or made for me in order to mock me}