By the time I woke up on Sunday morning, it was technically almost not-morning anymore and Jason had been up for hours. He'd already made a run to the hardware and gardening stores, done a bunch of yardwork, re-potted or transplanted dozens of seedlings and plants, and also brought this disaster waiting to happen into our lives:
So industrious, that husband of mine.
It was almost exactly 48 hours later, as I stood in the kitchen in my pajamas this morning, blearily making coffee, when the ladybugs -- first moved precipitously towards the counter's edge by Noah to make room for the toaster -- were sent flying off by the brute vibrating force of the nearby coffee grinder. And I watched in horror-movie slow motion as the lid flew off and an absolutely plague-like number of ladybugs spilled out.
I am not proud to admit it, but every single bad word I have ever uttered on this website came out of my mouth in that moment, loud and clear and in front of my children.
I ran around in a panic, looking for something to...scoop them up with? Something to help me get as many of them back into the container as possible without having to use my bare hands because LOOK I know they're just harmless lil' ladybugs but guuhhhhhh there are so many of them crawling in so many directions and OH SHIT THEY ALSO FLY THAT'S RIGHT.
I made a couple scooping passes using Ezra's homework folder before giving up and just getting the fuck in there with my hands, trying to be as gentle as possible while cursing at the top of my lungs -- no worries about the children's innocent ears, they'd fled the room already and were running around the house shriek-laughing at the strange chaos going down in the kitchen.
A very interested Finn appeared in the doorway.
"NOT TODAY, CAT," I hollered at him, "NOT FUCKING TODAY."
He looked startled but obeyed, and backed away from the squirming, tempting pile of delicious floor raisins.
At this point I realized that as fast as I was scooping the bugs up, the ones still in the container were even faster. I put a bunch in; just as many were crawling up to the container's edge and attempting to take off. It was like my airport anxiety dream (where I need to board but hundreds of Lego are falling out of my luggage) brought to life. Only the Lego have all sprouted legs and wings are completely disgusting, since most of them were too young to be red/orange yet, and really looked more like tiny sentient mouse turds.
I gave up, put the lid on the container and swept the rest up with our handy broom and dustpan (and hell yeah that's an affiliate link for anyone who still hasn't bought one for their own cereal-challenged children; you'll regret it the next time your spouse's insect hoard hits the ground), then dashed outside to dump them in the flower and strawberry planters on the deck.
I think, in the end, I got most of them either back in the container or outside, although I'm sure I missed at least a few. Which Jason (after getting this entire recap afterwards over text and in mostly all caps) pointed out isn't a bad thing, since our LAST bug infestation encounter involved those annoying pantry moths and we still occasionally spot one. "The ladybugs eat those," he said, like our house is now some real-life version of the old woman who swallowed a fly.
And that was my morning. The day can only go slightly downhill from that, right?