They flock to building walls that are warm in the autumn sun.
They ride indoors on my clothes, in my hair. They’re looking to settle in somewhere for winter. They’re already getting lethargic, like the houseflies caught between your windows.
Generally, I like ladybugs. They’re good for gardens. But this time of year, they’re a nuisance as they try to migrate indoors.
I try to catch them in cups and release them to back into the world where they belong. They say it’s bad luck to kill a ladybug, even when they’re taking over your farmhouse.
I don’t need any more bad luck.
Your house in on fire and your children are gone,
All except one and that’s little Ann,
For she crept under the frying pan.
[Oh damn! I just accidentally killed one while trying to get it to crawl into a spoon. So much for luck.]