I made a comment the other day how we had seen nary a spider in our apartment. Karma brought me this.
Today I went for a run in beautiful, sunny, February weather in the high 50s. I am loving the winter right now. However, aside from Arctic Blast 2008, the non-freezing temps have one drawback--Insects that are normally frozen and obliterated have a chance to thaw and live. Last night, a winged beetle-thing (huge!) suddenly buzzed in from who-knows-where and started zipping around our house. I started screaming for Jon to come save me from this deathly creature, and as it turns out, we are both reduced to squealing messes whenever something larger than an inch invades. (Lest not we forget the April 2008 mouse incident(s), when Jon screamed, sprinted, and babbled at the sight of the mouse that refused to die.) After a lot of magazine waving, lysol spraying, and panic attacks, I trapped it under a cup and Jon squished it. I threw it away as Jon left hurridly to "study." It's one of those instances where I look back and think "Did I really need to act like that?" Or, more importantly, "Did Jon really need to act like that?"