Itsy Bitsy Spider

Last night a big multi-jointed scorpion slithered across the kitchen floor just before the start of the presidential debate.

This was not something we were prepared for.

It's true that I've grown more accustomed to wildlife in 10 months here than ever before in my life. I'm the little girl who thought that pumpkins grew in the corner store parking lot.

I've toughened up a bit since I traded my heels for flip flops. One morning, before I had had my coffee, a large bird flew into the foyer and then into the dining room, wildly flapping his wings. I shrieked and ran outside in my pajamas to where Senor Gomez was gardening and Juan Carlos, a security guard, was, well, guarding. Neither speaks English, so I wildly flapped my arms and pointed to the house. They tentatively followed me inside and laughed when they realized my problem. They solved it for me somehow.

Later that same morning I bent over to straighten some toys and a frog jumped out. Fortunately he jumped all the way to the door, sparing me another embarrassing round of chicken dance charades with Gomez and Carlos.

Last weekend our new babysitter Jesse happened to notice a massive tarantula in the groundcover under the babies' slide. Faster than you could sing "Down Came the Rain," we relocated the Kangaroo Climber to an area where all that's underfoot is stubby dry grass.

But despite these previous critter encounters, last night's scorpion was creepy scary. I wish I could tell you that we (i.e., Mike) successfully removed him from the premises, but he (the scorpion) disappeared under the stove just as Jim Lehrer dove into the creepy scary economy.

I'm left with the urge to fumigate and then sleep in my shoes. I definitely need to stomp on something.

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