This morning I spotted something under the kitchen table that looked a little odd, and when I leaned in to look a little closer I realized it was a SCORPION!
I called to inform my sweetie that he needed the exterminators to make a house call because I'd found a dead scorpion under the kitchen table.
While I was on vacation he said he talked to the neighbor, and the neighbor had recently found a scorpion, but that's the neighbor. His house is twelve feet away. (Ah, life in suburbia hell!) We have an exterminator and a security system. I'm suppose to be safe against what is out there.
I went out to the garage to get a broom to sweep it up, so then I could bag it up, but then it started scurrying around the kitchen floor. Toward me? Away from me? I DON'T KNOW! I JUST KNOW that IT WAS VERY MUCH ALIVE!
Thank goodness I didn't try to just pick up its dead body with a paper towel like I do with other undesirable creatures.
I beat it with a broom and call my sweetie back to tell him that the scorpion under the table-- where his children had eaten their Cheerios just a few hours before--had actually been alive.
Attention all scorpions in the area: I have no problem with you. You seem like very nice little creatures, well, except for the venom stuff, but you are NOT invited to visit my house. I have this tiny little space to live. You have the vast desert. Bug off!
Disclaimer: I am not always the weak wife who calls her husband over bugs and such. I deal with a lot of things around here, like other dead bugs and spiders; loose, bleeding baby teeth; clogged toilets; and the things that perished horribly in the refrigerator. He can take on this new heebie jeebie business with the scorpions.