I killed my first scorpion this morning. I was vacuuming and kicked aside one of Ella's toys, and there it was, in all its mother-effing nasty stinging glory. Mama bear mode trumped my innate fear of bugs, especially the stinging kind. I proceeded to run it over with the vacuum then stomp on it for good measure, until it was completely unrecognizable. So unrecognizable, in fact, that I had a moment where I looked at it and wondered if I had freaked out over a twig or something (nope, definitely could still recognize its stinger).
I immediately called Jim and forced him to ask him coworkers about them. They claim they are no worse than bees. Great, except I don't want bees in my house either.
Operation Die Bugs Die has now commenced.
I'm totally impressed that you didn't lose your schmidt and run screaming. I don't usually have a problem with bugs (I'm more likely to rescue spiders than smash them...), but I think I would have made a special exception for a scorpion.
ReplyDeleteHonestly the only reason I didn't freak the eff out was because Ella was right there and I had to kill it or risk her getting hurt. Otherwise I would have run out of the room screaming and made Jim come home from work to kill it.
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