Japanese Beetles are eating our new shrubbery, so Meg bought traps. The traps work by emitting a scent that makes the beetles horny so they flock to the traps to get sick and die. It’s the beetle version of Hoboken, but that’s not my point right now.

She spilled the trap on herself. Despite scrubbing the top layer of skin off of her leg, she reeks right now. I can smell it in the basement. It’s giving me a headache so bad that I’m questioning the entire institution of marriage and I’m pretty sure there is a group of beetles outside of the window playing Barry White.