It's semi-annual plague season in Central Florida again. That's right -- the lovebugs are back with a vengeance.

In case you don't live in a disgusting swamp and don't know what I'm talking about, let me clue you in. Lovebugs are these little black flies with red heads that float around in the air, moving with little to no purpose other than to get in your way and possibly land in your hair. Oh, and the best part? When you see one flying in front of you, it's usually not one. It's two, conjoined at the sexual parts in post-coital bliss.

That's right. They call them "lovebugs" because it would be impolitic to make widespread the term "flying fuckers."

Today while Avery and I were at the store, we had to literally bat our way through swarms of the things, which were teeming across the sidewalk and parking lot. At one point I looked up and it was almost like a black cloud had covered part of the sky.

Lovebugs aren't nuisances in the usual ways -- they don't sting, they don't eat your food, they don't spin webs across doorways so that you walk into them and end up wiping your face for the next ten minutes. All they do is hump and float. But it's still pretty disgusting in terms of sheer numbers. During breeding season, I consider it a duty to ensure that as many lovebugs as possible die a horrific death upon meeting my windshield.

Then when we got home I saw two snakes in my backyard. Not one like usual. Two.

You know something, Florida? I don't like you either.