It isn’t often that I get to be my wife’s hero

I was sitting at our dining room table hunched over a large beetle. My wife, Mel, was standing. In her right hand was a brown cardboard box full of vials. Each vial held a different bug. Some were spiders (although we had recently come to understand that spiders were not, in fact, bugs, but arachnids), some were bees, or flies, or unknown. Mel was in je…