Sweetie just couldn't rest until we bought a new front entry door on New Year's Eve. $387 later (including an insulated storm door with a Hide-a-Way Screen) we bring it home.
Then the shocker comes. He does NOT sit down to drink coffee or smoke. No, he removes the interior trim from the old front door and part of the paneling as the new door is wider than the old one.
I had not recovered from his sudden burst of energy before I noticed bugs crawling into the living room. Hundreds of bugs!
Around here they're called Box Alder bugs. I haven't bothered to look up a correct spelling or any entomological information. All I know is they plaster any warm surface; drop from trees and eaves and land on your shoulders and hitch a ride inside where they seek other warm surfaces. Ovens, lamps and overhead lights come to mind.
I don't recall them ever being around here 30 years ago but, things do change...
So my task New Year's Eve was to kill the pests. I asphyxiated the buggers with log shots from a can of Wasp & Hornet spray, mopped the floor, vacuumed the carpeting, and removed the sofa pillows and slipcover.
Meanwhile, Sweetie, who had created the whole mess, had his headset on listening to TV. I sought the comfort of my wing chair to read awhile. About 15 minutes later I decide to refresh my cold coffee. Imagine my surprise when I place my feet on the floor, take a step and then realize the entire living room carpet is again covered in bugs!!!!
Thinking back, I had the lead role in a movie called "Attack of the Bugs." After waving my arms, kicking, screaming, jumping, stomping and swearing a blue streak at least I had some exercise.
Mr. Recliner just sat there and said, "Could you move out of the way? You're blocking my view. The bugs are all dead anyway."
I looked around and sure enough they were.
"Those are just the ones that crawled out of the door casing and wall after you sprayed," he announced.
After looking the fool, I was determined (as is my female privilege) to score a point.
I stood there looking at Mr. Recliner, slightly to the left so he could see his blessed TV, and said, "Guess one got away. It's crawling on your shoulder."
"No it's not," he pronounced. "You're just pissed."
And then the bug dropped into his bowl of potato chips. I sat down and prayed for the inevitable.
He eats automatically while watching the tube. A few minutes later he's spitting and cursing.
Still being of the female persuasion I couldn't resist: "Told you!"
And the door? It was installed New Year's Day when we had warm weather and green grass and bare corn fields. No snow anywhere. Later that evening the winds picked up, the temp dropped 32 degrees and the bugs haven't made another appearance.