Still blinking back sleep after a dead-to-the-world nap, I heard a tiny blip (I keep wanting to type it as "fpfp") and saw that that damn ladybug, bright red with imperfect little black spots, had landed again and was crawling across the top of my MacBook.In a fit of frustration — "How many times do I have to kill you?!" — I flicked it as hard as I could, and it plinked against the wall before hitting my ottoman. A defeated "fpfp." I am cruel. Only it wasn't defeated. It started crawling again. (Zombie ladybug?!) They're even more resilient than I am, it would seem.
I just wanted it out — the last thing (well, among the last things) I need is a ladybug on my face in the middle of the night — so I conceded. Fine, ladybug, you win. Did you enjoy your stay in my nice apartment? I coaxed it onto one of the 400 magazine subscription cards on my coffee table and fled to the kitchen window. I opened the screen and, tapping the card lightly against the sill, set the ladybug free. For the first time since I developed this paralyzing fear of all things insect, I chose mercy and let that little ladybug live. War is not the answer.
Maybe I was just too tired to fight back yesterday. All the more reason to choose my battles, I guess. Character development.