I mentioned on Twitter that my bathroom has become a place where ladybugs go to die. I do not understand. One of my podcasting cohorts (I forget which one; honestly, those guys are interchangeable except for the one who says he’s straight) suggested I had become a vengeful ladybug god that demanded sacrifice.

Since human religions are inscrutably weird, I’d expect a ladybug one to be even worse. But at least they can see me, I assume. Ladybugs have eyes in all the cartoons, but I’m no entomologist. In any case, I’ve never grown wroth with ladybugs. I have a very straightforward relationship with the insect community.

I only have the one commandment (“Thou shalt not lay eggs in my cereal”) which I think is reasonable. I should be able to lay down some laws. It’s not like the bugs are pitching in on the mortgage.

I had thought the house was built on an ancient ladybug burial ground. But these macabre incursions are a recent phenomenon and the house has been around for 20 years. I had even begun to suspect that the ladybugs had build some sort of nest inside my walls because of the harsh winter, then wander in through some hole in my bathroom caulking and succumb to the chemicals the exterminator sprays. But I am trying to be logical, so I am disregarding the more outlandish ideas. (Holes in the caulking. Puh-leeze.)

I am never going to sell the place if it’s haunted by ladybug ghosts. I have to figure something out.

Does this say "put your hand in me"? It does not.

As usual in situations like this, I start thinking “bat box.” My neighborhood has enough bats to qualify as a “shitload.” I assume we have a lot of caves, vampires, or crimes in my area. So if I put up the bat equivalent of a birdhouse, some of those bats can move in and serve as little flying Robocops.

I am assuming that bats would automatically know to patrol the perimeter. They may take down a few moths, but that’s a small price to pay. And the mosquitoes… they can have all the free mosquitoes they want. They claim there’s no malaria around here, but that might be just what they want us to think.

So I’m getting a bat box. Expect updates about my new air force.

Some of you pedantic skeptic types might be saying “Christian, while I’m sure a bat would be happy to eat a ladybug, it’s going to be difficult for a flying creature to get them out of your walls using only echolocation.” Look, shut up. Bats are smart. They have incredible resourcefulness and a nearly supernatural drive, much like the superhero for whom they are named.

How do you buff your palm so much it becomes refle--... never mind. But don't high-five someone you're about to shoot. Bad form.

But until the bat box arrives and the bats come back from wherever they spend their winters — some stately manor, no doubt — I still have to deal with these suicidal ladybugs. Does anyone know how to cheer up a ladybug? The only peppy ladybug song I know is the Sesame Street one I referenced in the title. That feels inappropriate since I accused Sesame Street of lying.

Oh well… I do have a caulk gun lying around somewhere…