The Way Things Are






The latest pithy email subject
2005-10-04, 11:14 a.m.

The latest pithy email subject line: “Disambiguate now?”

And I say yes, it’s time? Time to disambiguate? DISAMBIGUATE NOW or whenever. I guess.

Well, the weekend of unpacking, organizing and cleaning was a success, in that I became less discombobulated. It’s coming together and feels something like a real home now. I have also gotten used to the change in routine: the stuff being stored in a different kitchen, the long hallway that I have to walk down to get to the laundry room. Etc. All the stuff that had me a bit ambiguated last week. All disambiguated now.

The bad news is that we are a veritable breeding ground for scorpions. I’ve seen two since Friday night, and these are not babies. These are bigguns. Actually, maybe baby ones would worry me even more because HOW MANY SIBLINGS DO YOU HAVE, BABY SCORPION?

(Aside: wouldn’t it suck to have a litter of baby scorpions rain down out of that hole in the ceiling, right on top of you? That would suck.)

So I was sitting at the dining room table Friday night, ALONE, devouring a spinach and mushroom pizza after 6 hours of hard work, when Mrs. Beans began barking at the floor behind me. She’s not the brightest of bulbs, so at first I thought that she was barking at a knothole on the floor. No, that’s no knothole! That’s a big-ass brown scorpion. Who knew? Our floors are exactly scorpion colored! How nice.

I beat that sucker to death with the Swiffer, and started wearing shoes around the house immediately.

Last night when we got home, there was another scorpion in the same spot. This one was more laid back. The dog wasn’t barking at it, and it was just chillin’ on the floor with its tail flat out behind it. I think they are dropping out of the ceiling through the smoke detector. Joy. Scorpions dropping out of the air. This one, I beat to death with the broom, but I believe the Swiffer works better. Everyone needs a Swiffer.

I asked Lil Guy last night if he has ever been stung by a scorpion, and he threw out a casual “Oh yeah.” He reports that it is no more painful than a bee sting. A bit of a sting at first, followed by gently escalating pain. After about 10 minutes, you have some throbbing pain, but nothing you can’t handle.

I think it’s the horror of such a prehistoric monstrous looking thing with its nasty looking tail curled up over its back, more than the pain of the sting that gets to me. If a bee got in the house, I would not freak out and beat it into little pieces with a piece of home cleaning equipment. I would most likely leave it alone. If it stung me, I would holler out a hearty “MOTHERFUCKER!” but would not run shrieking through the house and collapse into hysterics on the scorpion colored floor.

Just the thought of that ugly, curled up tail stinging me gives me a bit of a phobic feeling, and I admit I do lots of girly screaming whilst killing them and their brethren. (I know brethren was a completely unnecessary word, but I am creeped right out by the thought of scorpions and their breathren) Bwuh. I cannot imagine what my reaction will be when I finally do get stung. I am certain it’s a matter of when, not if.

I had talked to Don about scorpion #1, and told him that we needed (1) to get on a regular pest control rotation with him and (2) to pay him for his services so that when a new little pet shows up uninvited in the dining room, I can call and yell and make demands. He told me NO on the getting paid thing, and to please feel free to call and be demanding; he’s putting us on a regular spray schedule. So last night, after I had cleaned up the last scorpion bit off the floor, I was on the phone, leaving him a message that said something like “WE HAVE SCORPIONS DROPPING OUT OF THE CEILING AND I CAN’T TAKE IT AND YOU NEED TO GET OVER HERE!”

I'm sure I make him love his job. Other than scorpions and deadbeat dads, though, I got nothin’.

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