. . . there are no love bugs.
On a trip to visit my parents, Roger and I turned onto one of the many back roads in Wilmer and were pelted with splatterings to the windshield. Like any born and raised Gulf Coast girl, I knew exactly what was happening – love bugs flying like mindless idiots. There are so many of them that you often mistake them for rain, until you realize wait, rain doesn’t leave smudges . . . ewww. Welcome to Alabama my friends!
The curious thing is, I hadn’t realized it was love bug season yet (oh yes, there’s a season – the bugs show up twice a year every year). And that’s when I fell in love with Atlanta all over again. Sure, we drive on 7 lanes of I-75 in mind-numbing traffic while risking our lives as we dodge 18-wheelers trying to merge onto 285. But I’ll take it any day over swarms of love bugs.
However, mosquitoes do inhabit Atlanta. I should know. I was bit 7 times this weekend. And I won’t mention the huge black spiders I’ve seen in our garage (even Roger thinks they’re big).
Attention all bugs: you can bite me! Well, you know what I mean.