|Your house is on fire!|
We had shoes serving as Section 8 housing for women with scads of children, little match girls freezing to death on the street because if they went home, their fathers would beat them and -- lest we forget -- babies being rocked in trees ... until the bough broke, when everything went to hell.
But I digress. And thank the authors of these tales for my ensuing affinity for such shows as "Tales from the Crypt" and "Night Gallery." And don't forget the John Saul and V.C. Andrews books ...
But I digress. Again. Damn it!
Must be the ladybugs.
For Pete's sake, does Delaware have to be so cute? I just want to squeeze its toes sometimes. What's our state bug? Yeah.
Ever since 1974, when second-grade teacher Mollie Brown heard that neighboring Maryland had a state bug, and the fight was on. Deciding among crickets, mosquitoes and ladybugs, the kids went for the spotted beetle, and House Bill 667 legalized their preference.
I happened to be in second grade at the same time, just some miles north in the same state, so I missed the vote.
But now I'm living the history.
Instead of roaches (thank god) or ants (at least not yet), my new home is shared by ... ladybugs. It truly puts me in the mood of A (Disney) Smile and A Song when I am greeted by one of these buggers while I'm doing dishes or brushing my teeth.
One of my (I know it sounds cliche but I just love them) wonderful reporters, Molly Murray, explained the phenomenon. While the ladybug *is* our state bug, the Japanese C7 invasive species has horned in on the honor. And they bite! And look for cracks in your house to crawl in.
I should have noticed when they went after my sushi.
I don't like sushi.
I actually don't care where they're from, I still feel like dancing around the house in a dress borrowed from Disney. NOT Mother Goose. I don't have a death wish.