I had decided to do some research on lady bugs and heir symbolism, because I thought perhaps I'd learn something about the way they seemed to hang around only in my room out of all the house, and maybe there were reasonable ways to counter their agressive invasion. What I found was that eveyone, I mean everyone, from Europe to Idia to Japan to Australia loves lady bugs. Nobody except me thinks they can possibly have any dangerous or viscious qualities, nor are they believed by any culture documented on the web to be deamons of bad fortune. Atleast, I thought, I know I'm not dying of some disease they've infected me with, or the reciprocal of a spiritual parasite carried by these little beacons of fear. On the contrary, they're the little cupids of the world over, they are miniature passion-colored love gurus. Well, I decided, then they must be here to help me out or at least that was their plan before they freaked me out and I tried to ward them away, like a garlic-totin', silver-spear wielding victorian gothic superstitious nut case with a catholic up-bringing. It turns out they do have a tendency to cluster together around a single person, and infest people's houses. Most people don't seem to concerened about their squating but a few offered up advice including bay leaves, citronella candles and other such things on the window sills to ward them off. I however, decided to play it cool. First I made a peace offering one clearly stating my apologies for any harm done, my intention to leave them alone, and turn a blind eye to their previously onus presense in my Salle de Bain. Then I made sure they were clear: love help accepted, as that is their purported duty. When no love revelations came in the next week or so, I opted toward one of the more active routes mentioned in my research. There is an asiatic belief that I found that entails catching a ladybug and then upon releasing it, the little thing will fly off and fine you ture love and then send them your way. Hey, I thought, they're in my bathroom for a reason, why not try and gain something from these world renowned match-makers?
After that things were pretty normal, smooth no, but normal. We had some ups and downs, good times and bad. There was one episode where I let it fly after getting into the shower to find, as well as the normal five or six on the wall, one clinging to the glass divide on my side. I'm sorry, but that's way too close, way over the line, its called a personal space bubble. I had a little cow, flipped out, flicked one or two off the glass to the hard floor below, with steam pouring out my ears, and flames shooting out my nostrils. Luckily for them I chilled out and and a week later I saved two that were drowning on the ridge or the tub, they had slipped in the excess water and slid down the edge on their backs so that their golden legs crawled the air. I let them cling to my finger and hoisted them up to safety. Something about the familiar trusting cling of their feet on my hand evoked memories, and seem to cancel with the terrible nightmare that started this whole story, as this new, calm thankful reaction to my aid was what I had been expecting that fateful night. I felt a new solidarity of sorts, with my roommates. One of them was so traumatized that he didn't want to leave the comfort of my hand without a nudge. I was pleased with myself for saving them, and pleased with them for not having done anything rash since the last time I lost my temper. Then I checked on them again when I turned the shower off: all was well. I stepped out onto the star-shaped, red, shag rug on the floor and crunch - oh goo, what the (expletive deleted) was that!? I picked up the rug and gave it a hearty shake, not one but two dead lady-bugs fell out toppling and bouncy on the floor, hard shells empty and curled up. One had probably suffocated in the folds of the rug, or gotten lost in the jungle of the shag and starved to death, while the other i had clearly stepped on. I must say that humbled my good samaritan, self-righteous lady-bug whisperer feelings right there, but it was hidden in the rug for god's sake. The next day while doing sit-ups I found two more on the floor. I couldn't be sure why they were dying, too hot, or old age, maybe they mated and planted little baby squat-ers in a corner of my room and in their final act of stickin' it to the man (or poor, overwhelmed foreign exchange student, in my case) laid their weary heads to rest. At any rate there were plenty more to fill their shoes there seemed to be no change in the number of live ones sitting on various surfaces of my living quarters. I threw the dead ones away and carried on.
That night at dinner I found at out all. It turns out that my room was not the only infested part of the house, but all the bedrooms were prone to these tomato colored parasites. They aren't French coccinelles, but chinese imports to clean the corn fields of unwanted pests, but they're a bit out of control because they don't die out with the cold. Well, that put an end to my love-guru theory, and an answer on the end of the mystery. Case closed.
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