War Declared

17 07 2010

I came home from walking the dogs to find Chris stalking about the garage with his hands in the air, softly cooing “Come here, little beetle.  If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead, I just want to see you.  You’re my favorite kind of beetle.  Come here, little beetle.”

He did, eventually, catch the beetle.  After conducting a short photo session, he proceeded to carry the beetle around with him as he went about his business.

Later that evening, I was reaching between couch cushions in our garage when out flew a moth.

As I approached my bed a while later, a spider jumped – jumped – off the wall towards me.

There’s nothing like living with two amateur arthropodologists.  We are currently living in an ongoing construction project, so the garage door is always open to accommodate the pile of equipment and supplies that extends into the driveway.  The windows (screenless) remain open all night to cool the very warm house.  Doors to the house remain open due to the simple fact that nobody seems concerned with closing them.

So we have some moths.  We have spiders.  We have beetles.

I have witnessed, in the past, the hatching of many spider eggs.  Each one was a unique, amazing, and horrifying experience.  I have come to the conclusion that spiders’ breeding habits have evolved to take into account the fact that I am going to kill as many as I can see.  I don’t feel too bad killing every spider I see, because I figure there are a whole bunch in the proximity that I can’t see.

Jason and Chris want to save every one.

Including the black widow under the kitchen sink.

May you never live in a house with a black widow lurking under your kitchen sink.

I try, out of respect to the boys, to let these various little pets go about their business.  I’ve done a pretty good job, although that jumping spider had to go.

Then, last night, I was propped up in bed, holding my book, when I looked down and saw a scorpion.  On my rib cage.  In case you missed that: I found a scorpion nestled in the folds of my shirt on my ribcage.

I’m not typically a screamer, but I made an exception.

In came Jason, as I brushed the thing off and tried to squash it with my book.

“Don’t kill it!” hollered Jason.  “Don’t!  Don’t!  I’ll get something to catch him in, just watch him for me!”

He caught it.  He released it into the yard.

He returned and said, nonchalantly, “Shake out the pillows, they usually have friends.”

That’s it.

I have now adopted a ruthless anti-bug policy.  I’m no longer catering to the sensibilities of two grown men with the bug fascination of five year olds.  I dearly love them both, and am about to marry one, so I will do my best to conduct my war guerilla-style, with the hopes that they will not notice a significant reduction in the number of bugs they get to catch and identify.  But also in the hopes that there will be a significant reduction, in both bugs and scorpions.

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During the writing of this post, by the way, a crab-like spider crawled across the rug about six inches from my knee.  It was a casualty of war.

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2 responses

27 07 2010
Karen

The black widow picture creeps me out. Okay, I’m never going to scroll down this far in your blog again. The story about you and Jason camping the night before heading to South America is as far as I go from here on out.

27 07 2010
domesticanomaly

I’m frantically searching boxes to find a staple gun so I can put temporary screens in all the windows the boys insist on keeping open all the time. Okay, it won’t keep out ALL the creepy crawlies, but it should reduce the number, right?

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