For years, during my 45 min commute through the concrete labyrinth of the big city I would fantasize about the joys of rural country living. Sitting on my Sunset magazine inspired porch, sipping coffee while watching deer grace the outer fence line of my ranchette home. It would be perfect. Perfect for an artist at heart and perfect for my growing girls. In an epic life transition almost 3 years ago, we went from two decades in that concrete metropolis to a much more mellow small town life. The adjustments were not as smooth as I had thought. Not being able to walk to the store, or have access to an ever plenty supply of Targets and Old Navy were some of the easier adjustments. Somewhat surprising was how unprepared I was to share my world with nature.
It was as if every multi legged creepy crawly in the high desert felt obligated to personally welcome me to the homestead. Pretty sure the sun spiders were trying to hug me, you know, in the most disturbing horror film type of way (If you have never seen a sun spider, look it up, and then be mad you did).
Then, there was the scorpion incident.
For a girl who dissolves into tears and the sight of a spider, giving said spider creepy claws and a mean pointy tail that can stab you with poison is just cruel torture that should not exist in reality. As if that weren't bad enough the crazy person who sold us the house decided to put scorpion colored carpet throughout the house, giving this stinging nightmare additional camouflage. Stephen King could not have written a more polished lead in to something this terrifying. A lovely afternoon with visiting family, kids playing barefoot in my bedroom with the lights off to display the new collection of glow sticks, and a sense of ease that my days of running from the home crashing insects that had taken up residence in our previously vacant home before we moved in had finally passed. We had fully moved in, taken over and I was starting to feel at home.
Oh yeah, so that part about the kids and the glow sticks. Shortly after their darkened glow dance fest ended and the kids moved back into the living room with Grandma in tow, I saw that tiny cream colored exoskeleton from hell posing mere inches where my children's bare feet had just been. I looked at him, he appeared disinterested and then poised to attack. I called the husband in to dispatch swift justice on the intruder who was then crushed into tiny pieces under his boot.
On a slight tangent I might mention this moment being one of those crossroads where you most definitely SHOULD NOT consult google. Let's just say after a sleepless night of Internet research I had concluded a giant nest of scorpions was living in the tree outside my house ready to invade my sleeping children's bedroom while the smooshed remains of our attacker resulted only in spreading its babies into the fibers of my carpet to launch their revenge on my bare feet. So yeah, stay off the computer unless you want to spend the next day at your doctors office to be given anti anxiety medication and a prescription to chill the F out.
For many months after this I patrolled the house nightly with a black light, shoe in hand. I never found another scorpion, but the other spiders still kept appearing. It wasn't until the day I missed the intended victim of my flip flop who then plummeted to the floor and chased me down the hall that I realized I needed better weapons. While my husband would have secretly loved if I had taken a Dirty Harry approach, my aim is not that good and our house did not need additional ventilation, so I again went to the Internet to find a solution. I was on a mission of epic proportions and after hours of research and reviews of all the latest bug catchers on the market, I found my secret weapon. A weapon so simple, and yet so powerful that it would unite our household in a triumphant victory of the battle against the eight legged invasion. The overnight amazon package arrived, and I wasted no time assembling the device. Immediately I scoured the house for my first victim, huddled silently on the baseboard in the hallway. He was no match for me as I wielded this magical tube and at just the right moment pressed the tiny little red button that would initiate the vacuum and suck that little fucker off my floor. It all happened so fast, but as I raised the almighty Bugzooka up to admire my trophy I saw him scatter off between my feet and into a crack in the floor. Failure and disappointment along with every hair standing up as I realized there was still a spider on the loose.
I retreated to my office to ponder the dysfunction of the device. After hours of further research and examination of this now massively disappointing tool, it came to me. I needed to cast a bigger net to contain my prey before sucking him into his plastic prison. Having just weened the last of my offspring off bottles, I had the perfect solution. Behold the most awesome bug fighting tool in the world.
In the two years that have passed since my empowerment, I find that I can even face these little invaders with a fair sense of justice. After a brief discussion through their clear cell about the inappropriate intrusion into my home, I give them a fair opportunity to free themselves after I release them into my chicken coop. If they can escape the swiftness of my less intelligent ancestors of the velociraptor, they are free to go. Life on the homestead is much quieter now, and the invasions have lessened. I find myself taking refuge on the porch, smiling gently as my bugzooka rests by my side with the knowledge that I am ready and I am no longer afraid.
