Valentine’s Day

Yes, this was written on Valentine’s Day, a day I was not with my wife. She spent it with a friend going to thrift stores, I spent it at our little cabin in the woods, doing what I do best: nothing.

Except writing this love story.

Being married to an entomologist has its challenges.

Number one is getting used to bugs. Number two is the vast amount of untouchable knowledge they possess.

Example: If I point out an apparent infestation of ants, roaches, bees or elephants, and that we might want an exterminator, the response is always, “I’m an entomologist; I think I can handle this.”

But let’s go back to part one, getting used to bugs. That’s real.

She understands their behavior. She knows their sex life, their habitats, what attracts them and what can repel them. And if I complain, I get something like, ‘how much damage is that stink bug going to do to you, personally?’

It’s hard to argue with. So you have to get used to it.

During my cabin stay, I dealt with four dead roaches. 4.

I hate roaches. I’d rather have mice than roaches, but they were dead.

What I know from living with her is that bugs - like any animal - seek shelter. Temps at the cabin had been in the single digits since we were last there. Plus, we had sprayed the last time there, so while we did it ourselves, insecticides had been applied.

Now, about the four dead boys, they we all belly-up.

I don’t know if you’ve ever paid attention, but dead roaches are always on their backs.

I decided to challenge my entomologist. Why is this? Before I actually asked, I Googled.

It has something to do with the chemicals we use to treat them. They lose muscle control, something, something, something.

But my Valentine didn’t know the answer, so she tried BS-ing me.

“It’s how you position dead people. You know, on their backs, arms crossed on their chest.”

As the above pic notes, roaches don’t cross their arms on their chests, but I really liked her explanation better.

And that’s what makes this a love story.