Saturday, July 12, 2014

The war is growing, and I'm losing

A very common saying is "the friend of my enemy is my friend." No, wait, that's not right. The real saying is "Any enemy of mine is a friend of my enemies." Hang on, that's not..  Maybe "My enemies friends are a friend indeed?" At any rate, basically there is a saying that when two people fight , if a third one joins in he will be someones friend. Any general worth his salt knows that if he can force his enemy to fight a war on two fronts, it will make his job much easier, what with having to deal with fewer of his opponents at any given time, draining resources, etc. With that being said, a war has been declared in my house that I could just as soon do without. Who is this new enemy, I hear you ask, fighting valiantly with me against my arachnid oppressors? Earwigs. Stupid. Freaking. Earwigs.

Here's the thing. Earwigs haven't been an issue for me since I was about six years old and was told that they never use their stupid butt-pinchers on people. After that, they were quickly relegated to a background role where they were basically 100% irrelevant in my life. A pest that occasionally needed to be disposed of, but no more.


However, starting sometime at the beginning of this year, I started noticing them more frequently. There would be one, kicking it on the kitchen counter. Sometime later, yet another one, moseying along the floorboards in the bathroom. Once in a while, a particularly uppity one would decide that hygiene was lacking in his life, and decide to jump in the tub. Basically, after a while it went from being "Oh, there's one of those creatures that's 100% irrelevant to my life" to being " Really? Another one?" and then recently to "If I see another #$%$ing earwig I will *&#@ing declare jihad!"

The problem is, earwigs are, when reduced to the essentials, basically cockroaches. Cockroaches with freaky pinchers on their butts, that they use for who knows what kind of freaky stuff, (since apparently they don't pinch people.) Now, I have had to deal with cockroaches in my life, some of them mind-bogglingly, disgustingly huge. (See: I lived in Brazil.) However, cockroaches, despite being foul and disease spreading vermin of the worst kind, are basically cowards. You turn on the light, and they scuttle away. You come closer, and they scuttle faster. It's basically their entire modus operandi: be disgusting, and then run away and be disgusting somewhere else when the lights come on.

Earwigs, on the other hand, do not scuttle away as soon as they spot you. Based on my recent experiences, I would say they're more like that one irritating acquaintance (everyone has at least one) that never knows when they've outstayed their welcome. They hang out, sharing your bathtub and making disparaging comments about how you're starting to get a little chubby, and have you heard about this one diet, and have you thought about maybe starting to work out once in a while, until you're forced to hit them with a shampoo bottle. (Maybe your acquaintances don't do this. If so, count your blessings.)


On at least three instances in the past two weeks, I have picked up my book, only to see an earwig hanging out on the binding. "Hey," it seems to say. "Whatcha reading? Oh, this one? I read that, I hated how the protagonist died at the end and the love interest married the villain. Anyways, don't you think maybe you should be reading a diet book or something?" Of course, I am then forced to batter it with every move in my (considerable) vermin bashing arsenal. But they still don't get the hint!

So, hopefully by now you're beginning to see my dilemma. Spiders, especially spiders that you come upon unexpectedly on your blankets right before turning off the light to go to bed, are terrifying looking little bastards. Especially the wolf spiders I deal with on a consistent basis in my home. With their freaky fangs and ability to blend directly into the carpet, they are seldom welcomed with open arms in my home (unless said arms happen to be holding a cinder block.) However, they do eat earwigs. And for that, I would happily allow them to keep living in my home. In fact, I'm beginning to think it's my fault that the earwigs are running rampant now, since I spent most of the last year killing off their main predator with a shoe. 

The worst part is, what with the wolf spiders thinning out the earwig herds, the spiders just get bigger and faster, while only the strongest, most cunning earwigs survive. In either case, I'm forced between a freakishly fanged, eight-legged rock, and pincher-butted disease-carrying hard place. If the earwigs win, I'm stuck opening the bathroom door face to snarky face, hearing comments about my weight from the tub, and if the spiders win I end up with a spider hanging out on my pillow right before lights out, asking if I'm comfortable and do I mind if he's the little spoon tonight? With those choices, fleeing the country is beginning to seem like the best option.