With the semester standing on its last leg, and my headspace teetering on the brink of summer bliss, it seems appropriate that I would be scrambling to finish one last paper. Professors meander through the semester at a sluggish pace and then pile on the paper assignments at the last minute to accumulate some sort of a grade point average. This abrupt assault of late nights and coffee highs leaves me tired and indifferent while professors sit back, relax and wait for the inevitable request for an extension. However, the tables eventually turn, and the learned educators find themselves stuck in the never-ending mountain of mediocre assignments (because they were assigned last minute) and coffee stained clothing. As I sit constructing the final paper of the semester, I find my focus waning.

Proper sentence structure and grammatical conventions escape the foggy landscape of my brain waves, and I discover myself utterly distracted and seemingly on edge. Why, you ask? I think you already know the pesky little culprits, and it appears that they deem it necessary to continue infiltrating my camp and tormenting what little sanity I have left. The battle of the stinkbugs rages on, and I will not cease extinguishing their ranks until not one remains … or until I go home for the summer. This is going to be the longest week of my life.

In the past three hours, I have conquered duels with fifteen unlucky contenders, and each has met their royal flush. The battle began when I happened to notice the wispy movement of antennae as they timidly peeked out from the seal in the window frame. I am not sure how I came to discover this most pernicious stinkbug, but I made quite certain that he would not escape my weapon of choice. I ran to the sink, grabbed the full proof bottle of Windex, raced to the window, and sprayed him until he retreated into the depths of his arrival. For good measure, I sent a few hearty streams into the hole he crawled into, and not even a moment later, he emerged right into my waiting death grip.

I do not play games when it comes to stinkbugs, and I put my new take on smoking out the enemy to good use with the second fallen intruder. This sneaky little insect – we’ll call him Ralph – thought himself intelligent because he wedged himself between the two panes of glass in my bedroom window. I watched him for a solid ten minutes scale the slick glass like Spiderman until he got too close for comfort. I then sprayed copious amounts of potent blue liquid down the glass, saturating Ralph, delaying his ascent. Eventually, I smoked him out, and as he reached for the metaphorical bell at the top of the wall, I snatched him up and sent him on a log flume to the sewage system. I also find it important to note that while this particular duel raged in my bedroom, I was simultaneously cooking dinner and binge watching The Office. I am the queen of multitasking, or I like to think that I am.

All the duels that followed did not end well for the stinkbugs, which now incidentally, I universally refer to as “Ralph.” I truly feel as if I have a sixth sense when it comes to these distinct insects; I just happen to look up, and there is a monstrous creature crawling on the ceiling, or I hear the barely coherent fluttering of crisp, harshly clipped wings. The metallic clang is a sound that will forever be engrained in my memory.

Every time I attempt to grab the creepy crawlies as they make their grand escape, I injure myself in some way. For instance, as I was reaching for Ralph #10 as he clung to the pane of glass, he managed to burst through the thin material of a Puffs Ultra Soft. I felt him use his miniscule talons to claw through the pillow-like formula, and the distinct clang of the wings sent my body into full escape mode myself. I released the tissue, let out an ear-piercing screech, and fell backwards into my glass coffee table. Save for the tiny scrape on my elbow, the only thing bruised was my ego. I figured I could waltz out of each battle unscathed, and while I did conquer Ralph #10, I now know that they’re on to me. However, I will not let this brief mishap stop me from taking on all the Ralphs in this world.

The great battle of the insects continues in my humble abode, and I am forever grateful that I will be taking a three-month leave of absence from the never-ending war. The only thing getting me through this final week of the semester is my loyal and trusting Keurig, for without her, I would most likely take measures to unnecessary extremes by patching every conceivable orifice in my apartment to try and keep the enemies at bay.