I’m thinking a lot about bugs these days. Spiders, too. Not on purpose, of course, but they are much more of a presence right now. I swear that I have twice as many mosquitoes in my house than I did last year, which means that either there is a hole in a screen somewhere or they heard I just got cable. A friend on Facebook mentioned cicadas the other day. I know they only come around every couple of years, and I assumed all parts of the country were on the same cicada cycle. Apparently not. I remember them quite well when they came around here a few years ago. One day I got stuck in traffic in downtown Downers Grove on the way home from work, right behind a 1972 Ford Ugly that needed a new muffler. I entertained myself by watching the cicadas swarm around, which was all well and fine until one of them dive-bombed my car. I actually ducked. Ok, I didn’t duck, I just flinched a little bit, which is still kind of stupid because it bounced off the windshield and didn’t even get close to my breathing space. But still, I flinched. On some level, for just a split second, I must have thought, “It could have a drill or a saw or an etching tool of some sort and it will get through the windshield and hijack my car! Oh wait! Never mind! It’s a cicada!”

I’m not afraid of bugs; I just don’t like them. I realize that might be a little close-minded of me — I’m sure many of them are friendly, outgoing, law-abiding insect citizens and I really shouldn’t judge the group on the basis of a few bad apples crawling in my garage, but I’m still just a little put off. I have no problem killing a spider, but as I’m running with the spider mashed up in a paper towel on the way to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet, I do have a tendency to make an “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” sound. I’m not proud of it. That’s just how it is.

And for the record, I didn’t realize cicadas could fly. I thought they just lounged around and ate wood or leaves or Cheetos or whatever. But they do. They fly. They don’t seem to fly with much purpose or sense of destination, but still. Well played, cicadas.

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