heebie jeebies notwithstanding

A dark spot on the dimly-lit floor outside the laundry room cut through the fog of my grogginess this morning.  I knew immediately what it was: a cricket.

I don't care for crickets in the same way my college roommate doesn't care for spiders.  By that I mean, each kind of creepy crawly thing makes us just about come unglued.

Silly girls.

Heretofore when encountering crickets, I've been inclined to leave them be, as their jumping makes me jumpy too.  But I'm the mama here, and I'm not going to stand for crickets (or other such intruders) in the house.  Creepy crawly things are liable to be doused with hairspray before being squashed and disposed of, but in order to reach the hairspray I would've had to get past the cricket, and I figured that maneuver would make it jump, and then I'd jump, and that would be bad.  So I reached for my spray bottle of white vinegar and didn't let myself think any further of any jumping that might ensue.

The poor thing put up a valiant fight in spite of being too vinegar-logged to jump.  I was able to end the episode with a wad of paper towels and a big sigh of relief.

Now if it had been one of those half dollar-sized spiders that have made appearances a time or two this time of year, well, I think I'd probably still be standing there -- but then again, a mama's got to do what a mama's got to do...