Why the vicious dislike of this little bug/spider?
Well, let me tell you. That's what you came here for, right?
In review: a little over a year ago, we moved into my grandparents' home, which family fixed up to make lovable for us and our new baby. No one had lived in the house for several years, and the barns and out buildings were pretty well deserted. After construction, we had successfully stirred ourselves up a mess of Scorpion, not to mention leaving tons of piles of debris for them to nest in and generally set up housekeeping.
We are slowly cleaning up and repairing everything outside and around the house, so the piles are slowly starting to disappear, but the scorpions are not.
They are holding their ground; picket signs and all.
It started out with spotting one curious looking devil in our hallway. I called Brady and expressed my disdain and near helplessness over the spider. He informed me that it was not a spider, but a scorpion. After closer, careful inspection, I became rooted in the camp of These Things Must Die Painfully.
Next, I discovered one while crossing the threshold into our bedroom. Just hanging out there, mixing in nicely among the knotted boards of our hickory floor.
This meant intention. The scorpion intended to hide and attack me. If the scorpion was just on its merry way for a drink from the toilet with no intention of touching me or my loved ones, it would be hot pink with green feathers trailing behind and jingle bells on its tail.
It was in disguise.
Guerilla warfare, people.
It was at this point that I began using black electrical tape to tape off any gaps, holes, openings, cracks, etc. that I could find while crawling and sliding across our floor. We love our little farmhouse, but have mercy. The gaps, holes, openings, and cracks abound. The whole house moves and breathes with us and the weather, and these scorpion doorways are the result. I figured if I taped everything off, they couldn't get in.
Smart, right? Good-lookin'? Absolutely not. Better Homes & Gardens just scratched us off their list indefinitely.
After this short endeavor in home improvement, there was a definite lag in sightings, and my heart began to rest easier. I stopped shaking out the sheets at night. I stopped picking all the clothes up off the floor, and I even took our bed out of the glass bowls.
Oh, haven't you heard? Those rascals can't climb up slick glass, which is why my baby's crib STILL sits in glass ball jars!
So, there I was, sailing along with my days and nights, when It happened. The Night. The baby was sound asleep. Brady was sound asleep. I was sound asleep. The house was sound asleep. I'd like to think the cows, horses, dogs, cats, and chickens were sound asleep, too.
That's when he decided to make his move.
I awoke with a start, because I felt something ON MY FACE. Right above my right eyebrow. ON MY FACE. The eyebrow ON MY FACE.
Home to my eyes and mouth.
My face is near and dear to me.
So I sit up with a holler, which wakes up my sleeping husband, and I holler into the night: "There's something on my face!!!" I quickly grabbed it with my hand and slung it into oblivion...or so I thought.
Brady went and turned the light on and came back to check things out. I was frozen. I didn't want to know.
What if it was a snake?
What if it was a tarantula?
What if I had to start sleeping in the bathtub?
When he pulled the sheet back, there it was: SCORPION.
I slowly, with my sleep-drenched brain, put two and two together: that scorpion was on my face, seconds from stinging my eyeball.
I could have died.
My husband was non-plussed.
All I knew was that I couldn't wait to get on the phone with the bug man, to find out how soon they could get to my house with bug bombs the size of Toyota Camrys.