They're like tribbles

They're like tribbles.

The last couple of years, it seems like ladybugs have decided that there's nowhere they're rather overwinter than in a nice, big, warm stone house. So, they do, by the hundreds.

Problem is, when it starts warming up, the ladybugs have a real problem making their way back outside, where they might eat aphids and stuff. Instead, they wander around the house for a good long while, and some of them never make it out. They end up in the shower, they end up in my bed, in my shoes, on the stairs, on the keyboards of the computers, in the catboxes, practically anywhere but outside. They fall off the ceiling and land on my head while I'm sitting on the toilet. If I open the windows in the upstairs hall, they fall out of the gap between the window and the frame by the dozens. The cats won't eat them, of course (for some reason, ladybugs taste like crap to cats, whereas junebugs are considered a cat delicacy, to the point where they'll spear them out of the air).

I won't kill them, of course, and I'd really like it if they'd take up residence in the citrus trees on the windowsill, but there they are, beetling their way around the house. This is what spring is like in the mountains, so, welcome to it.

In social news, I'm meeting a nice (if somewhat overly-low-key) woman tonight. She's actually coming out to assist in trivia, which is an act of bravey.

The interesting-sounding woman who wrote me the other day turned out to be a nitwit. When, when, WHEN will I learn that 39-year-old women who've never been married are that way for a reason?? In this case, in email, I was joking with her about the various body-part-enlargement spams we get -- a dialogue she initiated -- and apparently I said something to put her off. Of course, rather than just say, well, we don't know each other, and let it slide, she decided that I was somehow massively obtuse for not acknowledging her discomfort (at the conversation she started) and got into one of these "we can't talk again until you GET IT."

Get what? Get the fuck out, is what I did. If a woman hasn't even MET me yet and turns into a whining, sniveling shrew, what's she going to be like in a year? The whole thing reminded me of nothing so much as the woman I met in January, or of the Crazy Jewish Card Lady of the turquoise moccasins back in December. But, look at it this way: I saved the price of meeting her for drinks and dinner.

By the way, if you haven't seen this, it's funny as hell. A friend of mine falls over laughing if all I so is say the word "word."