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| Sandhill cranes (Wikipedia) |
And I don't know if this is springlike or not, but on the 17th a scorpion stung me in the hand — when I was in bed, which felt like a real violation.
The last time that happened was in 1986, I think, but I was in Cañon City, which is an outlier of the Chihuahuan Desert anyway.
It seems like I saw one in this foothills house one other time, but I can't remember when.
These little tan scorpions are not too bad — it's a hit like a wasp sting that is just a memory a couple of hours later. But M. says that venomous desert critters have it in for me.
Aeons ago I was in a nasty, dirty, scary biker bar just outside Las Vegas and I had to pee. The bathroom was like something out of the third world, or maybe the fourth, and I was wearing flip-flops. So, as I'm standing there levitating my pristine white ass over the pot, I see something in the corner of the stall and the first thing I think is "Why does that cockroach have pincers?" As quick as the thought arose, I realized that IT WASN'T A FREAKING COCKROACH. And then the true horror hit me - I had to choose between leaving my nearly bare feet on the floor or putting my bare ass on the seat.
ReplyDeleteChoosing option three, I cut off midstream and bolted out the door with my pants still at half mast, escaping with my toes and tender parts intact and my ego mildly tarnished.