|Harlequin bug aka fire bug|
I'd spotted these bugs* in early spring and hadn't killed them thinking they looked so pretty and were harmless. I was an absolute idiot. Now they are everywhere and are bloody destructive. I bought some marigold saplings -- apparently marigold has insecticidal properties -- hoping the flowers would deter pests. The saplings were the first to be devoured. Now these bugs are attacking everything from my tomatoes, strawberries, capsicum and chilli plants to my nasturtium saplings (which I grew from seeds) and the passion fruit.
(* the bugs are Harlequin bugs aka fire bugs, scientific name Dindymus versicolor. They are evil. Here's how you get rid of them.)
It's like they mock me by having a bloody party in every corner I look. They are on the wall running up and down. I'm watching TV and then I see them -- bums joined -- scurrying all over the French doors. If not they are prancing on my outdoor-table, line dancing on the clothes line, sunning themselves, getting a tan and just generally lounging around when not generally screwing-around. All this when I've already written about the this-service-is-temporarily-unavailable situation that I've been enduring.
Though yesterday my dear doctor finally gave the go ahead. ("You've been blaming it on the doctor, have you?" she said, I told her she has nice hair). She did say that it could be different. (Please note, not necessarily 'nice' different). While 'physically' everything is in perfect working condition -- please report for regular servicing after six months -- it's the mental-area where there might be problems. No, I am not mental (thankyouverymuch), just that I think I am (I am) a tad anxious.
Then the doctor said that it's a good idea to perhaps build it up, you know, romantically. All my hopes were dashed at that one. Romantic and baby just don't go together in my book. Like romantic dinner = restaurant = who will babysit? Or baby will cry in restaurant. Romantic dinner = at home = who is cooking and who will do the cleaning-up later? Romantic movie = not happening because can't take baby to movie shows. Romantic movie at home = baby teething, uncertain pattern, we ate all the popcorn last night and if I drink anymore Coke I will think about my jelly-belly and that's certainly not romantic. Romantic massage = love the idea, but definitely don't want to give one and what if baby wakes up in the middle of it? Romantic = can't think of anything more and that's the problem.
And then I get stressed with wondering about wonder-when-it-will-happen and go outside for some fresh air and what do I see? Bloody sexually active bugs. I've had it. I'm going to exterminate the last of them and if that means I will be reborn as a bug, so be it.