Apologies to Any Entomologists

You have a few less specimens to study and it's all my fault. Forgive me if this offends you, but I hate insects. All insects. From maggots to flies and fleas to mosquitoes. If it can crawl or fly and not tell me why it wants to bite or sting me, then I don't like it. Well, despite the fact that it was a crisp 62 degrees in my apartment when I woke up this morning there was a giant (ok, an oversize housefly) bug on my Joy dish soap. I couldn't tell if it could fly so instead of risking an escape from a missed swat I got out my trusty Eureka--appropriately named "The Boss" by the fine people at Eureka. I turned that cyclonic-powered vacuum on so fast that creepy crawly thing never saw it coming. Apparently 62 isn't cold enough to kill bugs. My thoughts are this: I can't wait for Winter. Not only because it's my favorite season or because it brings snow, lit fireplaces, winter hats, Christmas music, and a plethora of other amenities, but especially because Jack Frost nips the heck out of bugs. Last week there was a spider on my bed...I glory in the days when he is but a faded memory and not a reoccurring nightmare.