How to Make a Million Dollars . . .

 . . . find a way to get rid of stink bugs.  These annoying little critters are impervious to known insecticides, and cold weather does not kill them.  No, that only encourages them to leave their cozy homes under the siding of our house to vacation in the cozier confines of our living quarters.

For those of you who have no stink bugs in your area, consider yourself lucky.  They are another Chinese import, apparently having come over in packing material.  Unfortunately, whatever their natural enemy is back in China did not make the trip.  Therefore, they roam freely over the ceilings and walls of homes here in the mid-Atlantic area, amusing themselves by flying into light fixtures.  Their distinct hum followed by the ping of striking the kitchen light is not exactly the romantic chorus of summer nights.  And no, hurling themselves onto light fixtures and even onto light bulbs that have been on for five hours and are therefore so hot that they would melt the fingers of the average human, bothers them in the least.  They seem to consider it an amusement.

They also seem to be amused by the dinner theater that takes place in our house.  They take a seat on the dining room light or on the nearby ceiling and watch us eat dinner.  Then the real entertainment starts.  Poor Martha, who is driven to distraction by these illegal Chinese aliens chases them down with a fly swatter or piece of paper, gathering them onto the surface and throwing them into the toilet.  She swears that they drown, but I have my doubts.  Eventually, maybe, if they've eaten right before they are flung into this pool and then cramp up.  In fact, yesterday, I found a tiny air mattress and a rubber ducky floatation ring on top of the tank, but I'm not one to doubt my wife.

Oh, and the one thing you can't do to get rid of them is crush them.  Then you'll find out why they're called stink bugs.  And it will take a while to get that stink off your hands, too.

I was going to take a picture of them this morning, crawling across a copy of Safe at Home:  A Season in the Valley, but none seem to stirring at this early hour.  Must have been a late night at the pool.