First thing this morning, I’m barely awake, I’m standing at the kitchen sink and notice a twig or something on the backsplash. (I keep a lot of plants in this wide, south-facing window during the winter, though they’re mostly out enjoying a summer vacation on the front porch right now.)
The twig twitched.
It wasn’t a twig, it was a praying mantis.
I scooched it onto a piece of paper and took it out to the garden.
Several years ago, I put on a pair of jeans from the top of the laundry pile and went out into the living room. As I was sitting at the table eating breakfast, I felt a weird fluttery feeling in my pants that scared the hell out of me. I quickly unzipped my pants, and a moth flew out. :eek:
Yeah…I’ve felt like that would be an appropriate thing to happen to me at times…
I opened the cupboard door one time back at my parent’s house and saw a flash of gray as SOMETHING ran right over my foot and scooted for the baseboards! I screamed like a little girl and immediately went to find the mousetraps.
Once, after sitting outside on the grass, i felt a weird itch on my butt…I went to the bathroom and pulled down my pants, and there was a spider in my underwear. It was a pretty small spider, and I’m not scared of spiders, but it’s an experience I’d rather not repeat.
My garage is pretty old (circa 1920), and has several holes in the wood sides near the ground. I keep the holes there because critters shelter inside during the winter.
They usually pretty much ignore it during warm weather.
Except for one hopelessly addled possum.
I started to wheel the lawn mower outside but something bumped underneath. When I tipped it up to look, there was a little gray possum hanging upside down, paws clasped around a blade. (I thought they just fainted when afraid.)
I didn’t really want to grab it since it might be inspired to bite. I definitely didn’t want to turn the lawnmower on. So I just shrugged, wheeled the mower back inside and gave a neighborhood kid 20 bucks to mow the lawn while I drank a beer in the porch swing. This proved so relaxing I just let the stupid possum live under the lawnmower.
I finally named him Jethro. He finally moved on–possibly to nest under a road grader or combine–but Jethro became my excuse for growing the economy, one teenager at a time.