*insert Plants vs. Zombie music when the zombies start making their way onto your lawn. And maybe there's fog. Or not. But definitely zombies.*
Last weekend, we drove off to a wedding. We noticed that the tops of the trees in the valley looked like they had been painted brown. We guessed it was the start of the caterpiller outbreak we all figured was coming.
But it is so much worse.
It's the Caterpocalypse.
My parents were on holidays, so my mom asked me to water her flowers and new strawberry plants. No problem. I went every day, watered, bam. Done.
Thursday morning: I get a text from my mom. Can you check on my rose bush in case of caterpillars? You'll have to start spraying it with soap solution once or twice a day.
I respond: Ok. Sure.
Thursday evening, after work, I go to my mom's. I walk through the little arch into the back yard.
And I shat myself:
|Holy shit. Too late. Moment of silence for the rose bush.|
Holy. Sweet. Peter. Paul. And. Mary. That used to be a rose bush. Like 24 hours ago. What. The EFF?!
Creepy crawly forest tent caterpillars everywhere! They're in the rose bush. They're stuck to the siding, they're crawling up the patio doors, trying to get into the house to devour my mom's brains. Or houseplants. Who knows. They are vile, sick, and smell awful when squished. But the only way to stop them is to squish them because the damn things don't seem to drown! And what with it being so DRY up here, you can't very well blowtorch the mothertruckers without causing a national incident.
So they keep coming.
|Caterpole dancing. Not sexy. At. All.|
Oh. And you know what else is gross? Having a T ball practice in a field infested with caterpillars. Because Yea! your kid is playing T ball! Yea he's going to bat! No, wait. The bat has caterpillars all over it. Let's whack it a few times. Oh crap, now there's caterpillar guts all over the bat. And it stinks. Wait, there are caterpillars crawling up my leg! OH SWEET JESUS GET THEM OFF GET THEM OFF GET THEM OFF! AAAAAAAH! WHY ARE THEY SO STICKY?!?! iBean does not like them at all. One starts to crawl on her sandal. She whimpers and then quivers and then full on freaks out. Then I have to carry her for the rest of the one hour T-ball practice while the creepy crawlies fully take over my bag of water bottles and Off spray. Which, for your information, does nothing to caterpillars.
Then you drive home. Back through a semi-wooded area, where the stench of the squished caterpillars on the road is like vomit and bile and decomp. And then you drive past all the bare trees (they just got their new spring leaves two weeks ago...they just want to be pretty. WHY CAN'T THEY JUST BE PRETTY?!) And drive into your driveway, which is two houses up from the main road. The caterpillars have only taken over the houses and yards on the river side, not the upside. They have not made their way across the road.
They're in my driveway. Five days of inching their way through acres of forest and they have finally made it into my driveway.
And my garage.
WhAT?! My garage?! Close the door! Wait! Open the door!
Grab the big broom, sweep those things out!
Put down the broom, run to push the garage door button, but by the time I get there, the caterpillars are already crawling back into the garage! NOOOOOOoooooo! They're so fast!
Grab the broom. Sweep sweep sweep. Squishy squishy. Sweeeeeeeep! Hurry! Hurry Hard!
Run to push the garage door button.
Garage door is closing...closing...and it opens itself back up. Something triggered the sensor.
My brain finally turns on. I grab the remote opener from the car. I squish and sweep and swear and scream: GET OUT OF MY GARAGE YOU PIECES OF SHIT!!! And as soon as the last one is out, I push the button. And wait. And watch. And see them starting to try and crawl back in.
Close faster! CLOSE FASTER! HURRY!!!!!!
And it closes.
Safe for another day. But it's only a matter of time.