It has not been a good insect day!
Eleven days ago I had my first encounter with the famed Midjin Kanuma . . . the Scorpion's Husband. Well, tonight when I went to feed the dog I'm watching for two months, there was another one, just inches from where I placed the bowl . . . which thankfully I didn't realize until after I was safely inside behind the screen. L's door was open, so I mentioned it to her, said good night, closed and locked my door and went about my life.
I was sitting reading some emails when suddenly I felt parched and wanted some cold water from the fridge. One step into the kitchen, and I spotted him . . . sprawled on the door, just next to my keys still in the lock. I froze. I may have yelled . . . but I know I didn't scream, I'm just not a screamer. I thought to myself 'Okay, if I'm going to stick it out here, I NEED A HUSBAND TO DO ALL THIS DIRTY WORK!' I quick called L. next door for moral support and told her my game plan: I would plant a chair far enough away from the door, climb on said chair, aim some insecticide, spray, and he would die peacefully and quietly and word would get back to his kind and they will never enter my home again (and if L. was to hear blood-curdling screams, she had strict instructions to break down the door).
Perched on my chair, I let him have it.
And let him have it.
And let him have it.
Truth be told, I almost knocked myself out with cloud I had sprayed.
He took off frantic . . . tried to squeeze under the door, but couldn't fit. Tried climbing back up the door, but it was too greasy from the insecticide. He took off into the kitchen (where I was cleverly on the chair) and made his way next to my fridge (the opposite side of my door) which gave me a small window of opportunity to unlock the door for my backup.
It was a bit of a sad sight watching him cling to life . . . at least until he (thankfully, so we didn't have to watch anymore) dragged his sorry body under my fridge, never to be seen from again.
L. went home, I grabbed a drink and locked the door again. Order had been restored to the universe. Not two steps out of the kitchen when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement.
What can I say, I couldn't help it.
I screamed and I grabbed another chair. The midjin kanuma ran from beneath the fridge and flopped about like a nearly-dead-on-the-beach fish . . . only with creepy hairy legs. He'd flail around on his back, then flip to his belly and run in a circle, then flop over and flail some more.
Being too terrified to move, from atop the (second) chair, I reached for the phone and called L. back. She had in fact heard me scream, and when I told her that he was still alive, she laughed. So much for moral support! She ensured me that he would in fact die . . . eventually, and I should just put a bucket over him so I didn't have to watch.
I hung up the phone and inched my chair closer . . . close enough to reach a big plastic bowl on my counter, close enough to reach and place it over him, far enough away for my mental health. Balancing on the chair, I lowered the bowl over him, catching a glimpse of . . . wait, what's that on his belly???
A great big dust bunny!