I was hoping to have the stinkbugs under control before the ladybugs moved in. But you know what they say about the best-laid plans.
I understand why bugs come into my house as summer turns to fall, and it’s not because I get a ridiculous number of TV channels or that I occasionally fix something good to eat. If they can find even the tiniest ways to get in, bugs enter buildings because it’s warmer in than out.
That wasn’t true back on the first day of October, when humidity was high and temperatures hovered near 70 degrees at bedtime. I was struggling to keep my vow to never, ever run the air-conditioning once September ended. I wore a sleeveless nightgown. Windows were open, the ceiling fan was on high and I had thrown off most of the bed covers. As I lay there flat on my back, waiting for my eye drops to work their magic before turning out the light, I noticed a dark object creeping across the ceiling directly above me. I raised up on my elbows to get a better look.
It was a stinkbug. No doubt about it.
A brown marmorated stinkbug, to be more precise. These invasive pests came to the United States from Asia in the mid-1990s, probably in shipping containers. In the mid-Atlantic region of the country, they cause widespread agricultural damage. Everywhere else, they’re nothing but a nuisance. A big nuisance. In early autumn, stinkbugs begin gathering around windows and doors of homes and businesses. When they find an opening, they march right in.
Stinkbugs don’t bite or sting and they cause no structural damage to buildings. They don’t reproduce while indoors. So why are they so hated? Probably because they tend to congregate inside by the hundreds or even thousands. Also, when threatened or squashed, they release an unpleasant odor from the scent glands on their abdomen.
Thus the name.
When I discovered the stinkbug on my ceiling that warm October night, my first instinct was to ignore it. As far as I could see, it had no companions in the vicinity. Live and let live, I say. What possible harm could one dime-sized, non-poisonous, non-venomous insect do?
I turned off the lamp and closed my eyes. Then my mind began to race. What if the stinkbug lost its grip on the ceiling and fell onto my bed and started crawling around and got lost under the covers and then found me? Worse that than, what if it fell onto my face? What if it fell into my mouth, which I’m not always good at keeping closed while I sleep? How could I drift off to dreamland when considering all these possibilities?
So I turned the lamp back on and took my telescoping flyswatter from the closet shelf. Standing on the bed, I could easily reach the ceiling with the swatter. But wait. Although I sleep on an extra-firm mattress, it does have some give to it. What if I bounced wrong while pursuing my prey and fell on the floor and broke my arm? What if I broke my leg? What if I knocked myself unconscious? How would I explain any of this if and when the 911 rescuers came charging up my bedroom stairs?
And even if I could steady myself enough to go after the stinkbug without tumbling off the bed, what if I struck only a glancing blow rather than a direct hit? I’d be left with an angry bug instead of a dead bug. And in either case, that bug was likely to stink.
What to do? What to do?
In the end, I did nothing. Nothing but close my eyes and try to think about something, anything, other than stinkbugs. As for the ladybugs who have now also invaded my house, you’ll have to wait for another column to read about them.
(November 15, 2025)
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