The Infestation

In my area, the infestation begins every winter around now.  Usually it's ladybugs.  They mercilessly paw through the porous innards of the house.  They crawl on the floor, bed, and drapes. Once I used a vacuum cleaner to suck dozens only to find many more waiting around the corner.  As the weather warms, and spring moves into summer, there is a much welcomed reprieve.

This year is different.  The ladybugs have been replaced with a much darker menace.  Black, beadle like creatures with wings, now whiz by my face and land on the windowsill. They are truly ugly.

At first, being a kind and gentle man, I lifted the creatures off the carpet and released them gingerly back into the wild.  The kids jumped and cheered as they waved goodbye from the back door.  But patience and repetition are poor bedfellows.  Before long, I became used to the crackle of exoskeleton between my fingers unhindered by the burial shroud of protective tissue.

Mocking revenge followed quickly. Upon turning on my bedroom light each evening, I would be greeted by multiple carcasses of emaciated beasts searching for their last morsel on my hardwood floors.  My daughter, squeamish as can be, began to scream every time one of these depraved insects crossed her path.  I would run into her room in a panic to find not a bloodied bruised child but a small dark nemesis laughing at my overwrought imagination.

Sometimes I dream that I lay paralyzed in bed as an army of small legs and wings overtake me .  They cover my skin. Even though I want to swat them, I have lost the will.  They peck away at my dignity but stop before the point of real harm. 

I am beaten.

This is what it feels like to deal with Medicare lately.