Bugs 'B Gone

There is no doubt in my mind that we truly need the services of a yearly exterminator. No, really. When I first moved to Florida I was terrified of all legged things larger than a mosquito. Time and frequency have taught me (more or less,) to calmly accept that I will occasionally run into an insect large enough that it should be paying property taxes…but it doesn’t mean I want them in my house.

So despite the fact that what would have sent me screaming in terror just a mere couple of years ago, I now regard with a jaundiced eye while I reach for the ever-popular cup and envelope, doesn’t mean this is the ideal situation for bug-removal. For those of you unfamiliar with this method, I’m shocked. Everyone has done this:

Spot bug. Grab whatever vessel at hand, preferably empty, though not necessarily so. In same motion, reach for closest sheet of paper (the stiffer the better…junk mail works well), that is large enough to cover the mouth of said container. Slam open top of jar/glass/mug over too-slow bug, and slide paper between wall/mirror/tub and bug while gritting your teeth, and making small whimpering sounds. Hold paper firmly over container’s opening, bravely shaking container slightly, if needed, to keep terrifying creature down. Fling, while removing paper. Fling the whole cup if need be, but at least fling the bug from the cup while removing the paper. Slam the door…or lid to the toilet immediately. The bug will be mad. Use accompanying surge of adrenaline to run (shrieking if necessary) away. Quickly.

As I was saying, despite this method being ‘tried and true’, it is simply not the most desirable. The desired method of extermination is definitely to pay someone to come to my house once a year, spray a little here and there, tuck a few inconsequential nuggets of poison in the outlets, and quietly take his leave.

Let me explain the timeline that follows this appointment.

One week after the exterminator’s visit, I notice that the sugar-ants that are enjoying Mardi Gras under the table have not yet got the message. They will.

Two weeks after the exterminator I will find a few dead, or mostly dead, large palmetto bugs in unexpected places. For the most part, though gross, they are easily dispatched thanks to their lethal dose of ingested poison. I vacuum if dead, or resort to slightly nauseating cup and paper method outlined above if creature has not yet succumbed to it’s final rest.

Three weeks later, there is a new sense of ease in the house. Less chirping and squeaking from the shrubbery surrounding our home, and fewer ants in the driveway ‘soup-kitchen’ line to the recycling bin.

Four weeks later, I am sleeping peacefully again, knowing that our insect-issues are behind us for the year. I begin to grow overly confident in our newly bug-free home.

TEN MONTHS from the date of our last appointment, the exterminator’s flier comes in the mail. “Your annual extermination services are due! We have scheduled your appointment for ‘x’, please call if this is not convenient!”

“Oh sure” I think, tossing the pink notice aside. “We don’t have a bug problem at all anymore!” I smirk confidently and make a mental note to cancel the appointment.

I then spot bigger, scarier, and bolder bugs in the house over the next three weeks, than I have seen in my ENTIRE lifetime. These are bugs on 'roids. They have taken over our home! The cockroaches just yell out when we walk into the kitchen “Shut the light off man! We’re trying to eat in here!” The sugar ants don’t even flinch when I turn on the vacuum.

In fact, I am now convinced that my exterminator has an army of trained insects which he drives around deploying on cue to homes in which his renewal notice ‘magically’ appears in the mailbox.

He probably chuckles to himself as he creeps around my house at night, releasing hordes of winged, crawling and legged creatures into my shrubbery. He whispers into the night like Santa calling to his reindeer on Christmas Eve…

“Now water bug, beetle, spider, and ants! On moths, on cockroaches, fly onto the plants!”

He’s lined my foundation with bug food, and they’re coming in droves. He knows they’ll find their way inside, it’s what they do. He rubs his hands together gleefully as he quietly slips my renewal notice into the mailbox.

Oh yes, he’s sneaky, and he’s good.

In the two weeks before my renewal appointment, I have now caught, vacuumed, stomped, and poisoned more 'big' bugs than I saw all year. I called the office this morning.

Can’t they get me in sooner?!

SOLD!