My Friend Sisyphus

Sisyphus has been living in my shower stall for about a week. He (or she but I will call him 'he' for the sake of convenience and to show my respect for females in general) ) is a Pentatomidae, which means five (pente) sections (tomos) beetle, known less generously as a stink bug. My understanding is that if I disturb Sisyphus, he may emit a pungent liquid related to cyanide, hence his name. Not that I plan to disturb him--he is hibernating and has caused me no harm so I see no reason for him not to share my home. If he last through the winter,which is doubtful, he will return to the great outdoors and begin doing what he is designed to do: suck plant juices and prey on other beetles.

Sisyphus is the official bug of no state, save perhaps depression. He is terminally unattractive, a drab grayish-brown. He does not converse well and, for all I know, is probably as near-sighted as Mr. Magoo. Nevertheless, I admire his pluck.

Sisyphus got his name when I first noticed him swirling around the shower drain. He was too big to fit through the drain holes, and his attempts to make it to safety reminded me of the original name-bearer of Greek legend, condemned in Tartarus to an eternity of rolling a boulder uphill then watching it roll back down again.

Sisyphus was founder and king of Corinth, known as the most cunning knave on earth. His greatest triumph came at the end of his life when Hades came to claim him personally for the kingdom of the dead. Hades had brought along a pair of handcuffs and Sisyphus expressed such an interest that Hades was persuaded to demonstrate their use--on himself.

And so it was that the high lord of the Underworld was kept locked up in a closet at Sisyphus's house for many a day, a circumstance which meant nobody could die. A soldier might be chopped to bits in battle and still show up at camp for dinner. Finally Hades was released and Sisyphus was ordered summarily to report to the Underworld for his eternal assignment. But the he had another trick up his sleeve.

He told his wife not to bury him and then complained to Persephone, Queen of the Dead, that he had not been accorded the proper funeral honors. What's more, as an unburied corpse he had no business on the far side of the river Styx at all--his wife hadn't placed a coin under his tongue to secure passage with Charon the ferryman. Surely her highness could see that Sisyphus must be given leave to journey back topside and put things right.

Persephone, kind but not very smart, assented. Sisyphus made his way back to the sunshine, where he promptly forgot all about his funeral and lived on in dissipation for another few decades. But even this paramount trickster could only postpone the inevitable. Eventually he was hauled down to Hades, where his indiscretions caught up with him. For his crime against the gods he was condemned to an eternity of hard and frustrating labor rolling a great boulder to the top of a hill. Unfortunately, every time Sisyphus, by the greatest of exertion and toil, attained the summit, the thing rolled back down again.

There's a moral there, but I haven't found it yet. Until I do, Sisyphus, old buddy, mi casa es tu casa.