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Creepy Crawlies and Me

I like bugs. There is something charmingly alien about them. Not passport alien, of course. Alien alien.

I have more respect for bugs than my husband or my son. I also have more respect than they do for frozen dinners six times a week—but that’s probably another post. However, my respect means that I am the “designated driver” as far as handling all things creepy or crawly. 

My policy is to adhere to the guidelines set down in the 1923 Kill versus Catch and Release Hoboken Accord:  

Paragraph 42. Clause 377k. Kill criteria:

  • Does the bug in question have the capability of doing bodily harm?
  • Is there current, or a future likelihood of, aggression?
  • Is it engaged in nighttime maneuvers on the bedroom ceiling?
  • Did it get a high score on the ick assessment test?
  • Is it likely to multiply, despite individual claims of celibacy?

 Paragraph 42. Clause 377n. Catch and release criteria:

  • Is the bug in question teeny weeny and not a black widow spider?
  • Is it believed to be in danger of extinction?
  • Is it woefully misunderstood by other species?
  • Is it cute, colorful, or even dashing in a rakish kind of way?
  • Is it named Fred?

photo © by Matt Rupp

How will you know if a bug is named Fred?

That’s just one of those great ontological mysteries you’ll have to experience for yourself.

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