As a child, I thought about becoming an entomologist (a bug scientist), and it's probably that love of bugs that keeps me from freaking out everytime I enter my office.
We have a bug problem. A ladybug problem. Specifically, in my office.
What is it about my office, with its eastward-facing wall and window on the second floor of our house, that lures these poor things? Right now I have about 24 ladybugs cruising across the wall, the windowshades, and the ceiling. They are crawling on my fan blades and its beaded pull chain. Dozens of little corpses stud my carpet like little red jewels (I need to vacuum, but I don't want to suck up the ones that are still alive!). They fly past me as I type, and they land on poor Dozer, who leaps to his feet and starts sniffing the tickly spot.
Why are they here? What do they hope to accomplish? They are only starving to death.
Byrd and I searched the house, trying to figure out where they were coming in, but to no avail. They keep showing up, and even as the older ones die, new ones arrive to take their place. The first few days, I knocked the ladybugs off the wall, into a little box, and took them outside, but by now, I see the futility of that effort.
Perhaps I should go find a plant covered in tasty aphids and bring it upstairs...