Smallish Detente--

No more stink bugs, not after that one day when some four or five showed up at once. No war was required, and perhaps it was only the natural drive of insects to find a place to squirm into that seems safer, more comfortable, that led them to seek out the lace curtains of my front window and the small window atop my front door--high places where the discerning housekeeper (myself) had to poke and squish to extricate them. Their instinct, and my desire not to have crawling things on my curtains, led to their doom.

Imagine--if it's not too fanciful, that the carcass of one of these beetles, one I didn't locate, and couldn't scent, warned off the others more than the chemical whiff of anti-insect preparations. It made them pause, and drove them to seek a more hospitable berth--the maple tree on the curb. A bush. Anywhere else.

That small flies, spiders, hideous fast silverfish with too many legs, and even june bugs have also entered my domain, and been dispatched, and may even come again, concerned me less than these, not generally *indoor* invaders. And yet I think I'll probably see another of those hideous big silverfish before I see another stinkbug. It's a matter of perception, I think. The novelty of the skinny beetles made me more squeamish--and screamish. In a way, I wish to some extent that I could have simply shown them out the door.

I still would prefer that no crawlies found their way into my house. But I will likely kill (small crawly things!) again.