Sunday night I spotted an earwig on the living room floor. I said to my husband, "Are you feeling chivalrous enough to deal with that bug? Or are you just going to remind me that I've been through childbirth five times and I can handle it?"
I smote the earwig myself.
I wouldn't have thought anything more of it, except that this morning I was scrubbing up under the rim of the upstairs toilet and I dislodged...AN EARWIG.
Why, internet, why was there an earwig lurking under the toilet rim? If I wanted pests to pester me while I was seeking quiet and privacy, I would move to the Amazon. How did it get upstairs in the first place? Did it march itself up the steps, perhaps with the aid of a tiny carabiner? Did it scale the outside wall and sneak in through cracks in the caulking? Did one of us carry it up there, unnoticed, on a piece of clothing? SHUDDER.
Did you know that the bite of an earwig can draw blood? Isn't that a cheery thought to start your day: you sit down sleepily to take care of your morning business and arise with ?
That's too much to cope with before coffee. No. That's too much to cope with after coffee. That's too much to cope with after vodka, for crying out loud.
The title of the post comes from Albert Dumbledore's line at the end of the first Harry Potter book, when he accidentally eats an earwax-flavored jellybean. I would eat six dozen earwax-flavored jellybeans rather than have earwigs skulking in the toilet. If you need me, I'll be obsessively scrubbing.
I flushed the one I found this morning, but he was pretty resistant to being flushed. Do you suppose they can crawl back up the pipes?