The towels I was using were starting to become ragged, so I went to my linen closet and pulled out ones that looked nicer. They'd been washed and put away as soon as I bought them, just waiting their turn to be used.
As I'm drying off, something dark flies to my right side. I glance over and screamed. I didn't have my glasses on, but it sure looked like a scorpion.
Mostly.
You see, the house I lived in before this one had scorpions. I never knew when or where they'd turn up.
One time, I pulled down the ladder to the attic and had one nearly land in my hair. I had them in my kitchen, in my bedroom, in my family room, and my pest control company was out spraying for them regularly because their usual pesticide doesn't kill scorpions.
This is why when I see something dark and scorpion shaped, I assume it's a scorpion.
As I screamed, I moved away from it, and thought, you know, this looks a little odd.
I put on my glasses and took a closer look. Hmm. I edged closer. It was black thread. A lot of black thread. I don't know where it came from because the towel was gray, and like I said, I washed it before it went into the linen closet.
I lived in the scorpion house for a little over three years. I've been in my current home for more than seven years and there are no scorpions here. I thought I was over those things. I even leave my shoes on the floor sometimes where I would never have done that at the scorpion house. Apparently, I'm nowhere near over those little buggers.
Scorpion PTSD is a thing. I'm living proof of it.
