Columbia Star

1963        Celebrating 60 Years      2023

No Bugs M’lady

I’m just saying...



 

 

“Alright you little suckers…you’re going DOWN! I’ve HAD it with you! I’ve given you your chances for life but did you listen? YOU DID NOT and now….YOU’RE MINE!”

It must have been frightening for my husband, Marty, when he walked in the house and saw me standing alone in the laundry room armed with my porto-vac aimed at the ceiling and gyrating around like I’d just walked into a spider web. I’m sure my little death speech caused him some alarm since all he could see was me swinging the portable vacuum around like I was General Custer at the end of his last stand. But he seemed to take it in stride. I guess almost 18 years of being married to me has left him a very small window of surprises where I’m concerned.

“Sweetie…whatcha doing?” He was moving towards me slowly and cautiously, all the while keeping his eyes on the porto-vac.

“THEY’RE BACK MARTY! Those damned disgusting stupid moths are BAAAACK!!! I’m gonna kill ‘em ALLL!”

“Okaaay, baby…let’s go sit down for a minute and you can tell me what’s going on…come on now…hand me the vacuum… just place it in my hand.”

I begrudgingly handed over my weapon and sighed.

“I just don’t know what to do Marty…they came back! I thought the exterminator got rid of them. He SAID he did! WHY? WHY DO THEY TORTURE ME? Does God hate me? He must! He sends flies in the summer and now these STUPID MILL MOTHS! I CAN’T TAKE IT!”

Marty carefully laid down the vacuum out of my reach and pulled me into his arms.

“Come on now, Julia…let’s go sit down and I’ll pour you some wine. Then we’ll talk.” I sniffled and followed him to the porch. He placed a glass of wine in front of me and then poured himself something that he took a big gulp of before returning to the porch.

A few months ago, I unknowingly brought home a bag of dry dog food that was apparently the happy residence of a CITY of mill moths. Mill moths, Indian Meal Moths, Pantry moths… they are small flying insects that get into grains, cereals, and yes… pet food. They are harmless to humans; they don’t carry any diseases nor do they bite. But they sure breed! They lay eggs that turn into larvae and the larvae can eat its way through all sorts of food packaging, even the dense paper that pet foods come in. I didn’t need to open the dog food right away so I just stored it in the cabinet in the laundry room. And that was the perfect formula for the mating, breeding, and cocooning of these aggravating little beasts! By the time I did open the dog food, it was ruined. Moths were flying around in the bag, their babies were all along the sides in cocoons, and they were practically having a darned parade in my honor for giving them such a nifty place to live and grow!

Of course I was horrified; I dropped the bag, screamed bloody murder, and ran for the hills. Marty saw what was happening and quickly took the bag outside and dumped it in the trash, then sprayed down the trash can with insect spray. I emptied the cabinets, washed them down, and put all of the pet foods in plastic containers. I thought it was over except for a few renegade moths that stayed behind.

I was wrong.

And I was in a quandary. I don’t like to kill things. I catch and release spiders, bees, wasps—whatever I can— and in the event I do have to kill a bug, I try to do it quick and mercifully. I figured if I used my little vacuum to suck them up, they could be released back into the yard, and they’d be so grateful they’d fly away. I could even see them flying around in the thing so they didn’t die. When we finally had to call the exterminator, he wanted to use glue traps, and I defiantly refused. I HATE glue traps. They are AWFUL! They are inhumane and a horrible way to die. The exterminator tried to explain to me the traps they used would lure the male in before he could breed with the female, but the female would follow the male to his certain sticky death and that was the only way to rid ourselves of the little monsters. I still said no.

That was a week ago. They are still here. Marty, after sitting me down with wine, reminded me of all this and told me if I let the exterminator do what he wanted I would never see the glue traps.

“I promise you, Julia…I’ll handle it. You won’t even know they are here. Really…I think it’s the only way.”

“Nooooo! I hate those things, Marty…” I was almost in tears of frustration. “I want them gone, but I don’t want them to suffer.”

“Okaaay…how about this…you go have lunch with one of your girlfriends, and I’ll meet with the exterminator and we’ll figure something out. Whatever we do will get rid of them though…I give you my word!”

“And…no glue traps?” I whimpered.

“You’ll never see a glue trap…I swear. Now go call a girlfriend and make plans for lunch when he comes.”

When we had a horrible spider problem a few years back at our lake place, I protested that I didn’t want to kill the spiders. Like the moths, I just wanted them gone. Marty told me the exterminator was going to spray something the spiders didn’t like to smell and that would cause them to move on, but it wouldn’t kill them. I was satisfied.

I’m sure that’s what will happen to the moths. Marty wouldn’t lie to me, right?

I’m just saying…

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