Obviously, there are the lakes. A body of water's rarely that far away when you live in the Land of 10,000 of 'em. My introvert's dream-come-true would be to buy a nice little hidden-away cabin by a secluded beautiful lake where I could read or write to my soul's content. Just thinking about it relaxes me. And, for a while, I can even believe I could live the rest of my life in such a cabin...that is, until I remember I'm married to an extrovert. So the cabin would probably end up being a summer thing. But that's alright, too.
Then there are the seasons. I like to see variation in mine and Minnesota delivers in this regard. Summers can get hot and winters definitely get cold. Plus, I usually see a lot of snow, although not nearly as much as I did when I lived in Syracuse.
And the list goes on. However, there are some thing I don't like so much about this state. The bugs. Well, one bug specifically. I can tolerate most bugs just fine; I grew up in the South and saw bugs there I haven't seen anywhere else. Fuzzy red and black ants I learned not to get too close to, for example. Then, of course, there were the cockroaches. I've seen teeny, tiny ones, great big ones, black ones, brown ones, flying ones. The common sentiment is that in the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse, roaches would be the sole survivors as the fittest of all species.
Now that might be true, but I have my doubts. I've never seen a cockroach in Minnesota, so I question whether they could even survive a winter here, let alone a nuclear holocaust.
But there is one bug I've became well-acquainted with over the years and I think it might just give the cockroach a run for its money. It loves trees and is, in fact named for one, but also likes to branch out and go places it hasn't been invited.
The Box Elder Bug is small, winged, reproduces like a rabbit in heat, and they're everywhere I don't want them to be. They like heat, the sun, clinging to surfaces that are exposed to heat and/or sun and fellowshipping with one another in great, massive, orgiastic clumps.
Box Elder Bugs are relatively harmless as bugs go; they don't bite, sting, eat anything indoors, and only reproduce outside. They're also easy to kill. Yet they are a nuisance because if they can find a way into a house- my house- they will take it. And for every one I successfully subtract from my the world, there's another and another and another itching to fill the void. Every year around this time, I can count on two things: my allergies will vigorously renew my dislike of early Spring and the Box Elder Bugs will renew my dislike of winged, flying bugs.
I used to try to eradicate them both outdoors and in, but it has become exceedingly difficult with two indoor dogs and two indoor cats. Also, no matter how much I might wish it, I simply can't eliminate the world's trees. In recent seasons, though, we've reached a kind of detente: I only take up arms against them when I finally get tired of seeing them in the house and they do their best to keep their home invasion numbers in the single digits for as long as they can so I get to the point where I feel compelled to do something about them later rather than sooner.
It's a futile fight in many respects because we both know that they'll- like the Governator himself- be back, more determined than ever.
But I think it might finally be time to let slip the dogs of...
Sorry. I had to squash one just now.
Yes, I definitely foresee a trip to my friendly neighborhood Target in the very near future.
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