I wake up sprawled across my bed—though, technically, my human sleeps here too. She stirs when I stretch, my paws pressing into her ribs. Morning! Time to start the day!
The air here is different. Back home in New Mexico, it smelled dry and sharp, like sunbaked dirt and sagebrush. Here, it’s wet and full of green things—grass, trees, earth that feels soft instead of dusty. I don’t understand it, but I like it.
My human does her usual boring human things before leaving, and I flop by the window to watch her go. Dramatically. Just in case she forgets how much she means to me. But I know she’ll come back. We were apart for a long time, but now she always comes back.
And when she does? Adventure time.
I barely let her get the leash on before I’m spinning, bouncing, whining—let’s go let’s go let’s GO.
We head into the woods, where the ground is covered in leaves that crunch under my paws. I gallop through them, tail flying like a flag. The trees here are so tall—bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. The smells? Incredible. Mushrooms, damp bark, mystery creatures.
And then—I hear it.
Water.
Not a bowl. Not a bucket like the ones I used to splash in and dump over back home. No—this is real water. Running water.
I take off, my paws thundering on the trail, and then—SPLASH!
Wait.
Why is it still moving?
I stand frozen, legs soaked up to my belly, watching in confusion. Why isn’t it stopping? The water keeps running over my paws, bubbling and swirling, as if it has no end.
My human is just standing there. Why is she not freaking out? This is incredible.
I do the only logical thing—I start stomping. Hard. Splish! Splash! Ha! It moves when I move! But when I stop—it keeps going. This is better than any bucket.
Then I remember—I can drink this.
I dunk my whole snout in and slurp.
Oh.
Oh, this is amazing. It’s cold and crisp and infinite. I take another big gulp, then another, eyes wide with excitement. It just keeps coming! I can drink forever and it’ll never run out!
I splash. I drink. I splash while I drink. I stomp and pounce and roll and—
Okay. Maybe I am freaking out a little.
This place is wild. The trees never end, the ground is covered in endless crunchy leaves, and the water never runs out. I don’t know how far this new world stretches, but I know one thing—
I’ve been living in Germany for about three months now, and I’ve spent much of that time sampling the incredible variety of restaurants in the area. The food here is fantastic—fresh, flavorful, and often surprising. I started out with the traditional German places. As expected, there were schnitzel options galore, along with pasta, pizza, and hamburgers. Classic stuff. Nothing too shocking.
But what really caught my attention was the sheer number of ethnic restaurants, each more exciting than the last. I set out on a grand culinary adventure, ready to experience the world’s flavors right here in Rhineland-Pfalz. My first stop: a Korean restaurant. I ordered some of the best bulgogi I’ve ever had, accompanied by an assortment of traditional pickled vegetables and a perfectly crispy dumpling. The menu featured bibimbap, kimchi stew, and—nestled right in the middle of all this delicious Korean food—schnitzel.
I thought, Well, that’s a little odd, but okay. It’s Germany. Maybe it’s just a backup option for those who panic at the sight of kimchi.
Then I went to a Spanish tapas place, which felt like a slice of Madrid had dropped right into Rhineland-Pfalz. They had divine patatas bravas and papas arrugadas con mojo, which were crispy, salty, and drizzled with a heavenly sauce. The octopus was tender and cooked to perfection. There were paellas, a robust wine list… and schnitzel. Just sitting there on the menu between the tapas platter and the seafood paella like it belonged.
This couldn’t be a coincidence.
I moved on to an Asian fusion spot, hoping for some clarity. The menu offered a promising selection: sushi, duck curry, ramen, pho. Everything looked fantastic. I was just about to order when my eyes drifted toward the bottom of the page. There it was again. Schnitzel.
Next, I tried an Italian restaurant, eager for a little taste of Italy. They did not disappoint. The fish was beautifully cooked, the handmade pasta was silky and fresh, and the tiramisu was rich and perfectly balanced—not too sweet, with just the right hint of espresso. For a moment, I was transported to a trattoria in Rome. Then I saw it. Schnitzel. Tucked onto the menu right after the pasta and risotto, bold as anything.
At this point, I was starting to sweat. Was schnitzel… following me?
After I moved to my village, I continued my quest, determined to find one, just one, ethnic restaurant that didn’t serve schnitzel. I started with the Döner kebab place down the street. Their döner was top-notch, and the pizza was surprisingly good. I scanned the menu. Döner. Salads. Pizza. And… schnitzel.
By now, I’d accepted that schnitzel was lurking on every menu in Germany, but I still held out hope for the Indian restaurant in the next village. Surely there, of all places, I’d be safe. The samosas were fresh and perfectly spiced, the curries rich and warm, and the naan wonderfully soft and garlicky. I felt a glimmer of hope—until I turned the page of the menu and saw it. Schnitzel.
At that moment, I knew: There is no escape from schnitzel.
And it’s not even ethnic schnitzel. There’s no curry schnitzel at the Indian restaurant, no panko-crusted schnitzel at the Japanese place, and certainly no tapas-style schnitzel at the Spanish joint. Just plain, unassuming, traditional German schnitzel. A default meal, the culinary equivalent of the “In Case of Emergency” option that exists in every restaurant in Germany.
At first, I thought this must be some kind of backup plan—for people who show up at a Vietnamese restaurant, stare at the menu, and panic. “I don’t know what pho is… Better order the schnitzel!” But now, I think it’s something bigger than that. Schnitzel is more than just a meal—it’s a constant. Like gravity. Or the tax office. You don’t question it; you just accept it.
And the more I think about it, the more I realize: Schnitzel isn’t on the menu because it belongs there. It’s on the menu because it always has been—and always will be.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I found myself at a vegan café, confident that this would finally be a schnitzel-free zone. I ordered an oat milk latte and glanced at the menu. My heart stopped. There it was. Tofu schnitzel.
I stared at the menu in disbelief. It was then I realized: The schnitzel had won.
But I couldn’t let it end like this. If schnitzel was everywhere—lurking at tapas bars, haunting Asian fusion spots, and infiltrating Indian restaurants—then there was only one place where I could face it at its purest form.
I went back to the original German restaurant, the place where it all started. I sat down, looked the menu straight in the eye, and ordered the schnitzel. Not out of desperation, but out of a strange sense of duty. If I was going to understand this phenomenon, I had to go back to the root of the chaos.
The waiter nodded, as if he knew this moment was inevitable. A few minutes later, the schnitzel arrived—a golden, perfectly breaded cutlet, served with lemon and a side of crisp fries. It looked… innocent.
I took a bite.
It was glorious. The crust was light and crispy, the meat tender and perfectly seasoned. The lemon added just the right amount of brightness. For a moment, everything in the world made sense.
And that’s when it hit me. Schnitzel isn’t a backup plan or a conspiracy. Schnitzel is a test.
It waits for you, quietly, on every menu, knowing that sooner or later you’ll give in. It lingers there, patient and confident, because it knows that once you finally take that bite, you’ll understand: schnitzel isn’t following you.
You’ve been following schnitzel.
It was never about escape. It was about acceptance.
A few weeks ago my coworker sent me a link to an event, Nacht der Vampire, Feb 8, Heidelberg Schloss. Not only was it a vampire party in a castle, but there was the option for a horror themed buffet at the castle restaurant as well. I bought my ticket, and spent the next bit planning: bought a dress, but it didn’t look quite right, so I bought a corset too; makeup; jewelry; train tickets for the S-Bahn to Heidelberg-Altstadt; hotel room for one night, walking distance from the castle.
Finally the day came. I overcame my curmudgeonly urges to stay home and go hiking instead, and walked to the train station. I was nearly 20 minutes early for a train that arrived 5 minutes late, so I got to watch other trains slide by and stir up the cold wind. ‘I really should buy an actual scarf.’ (I have had this thought probably 20 times since I got here. still haven’t bought an actual scarf). My train arrived and I boarded and found a seat, facing south and looking forward.
The train ride was smooth and uneventful. I watched the people that boarded and then left, and the landscapes roll by. Crossing the Rhine is always super impressive, it reminded me of crossing the Mississippi back when we drove to Michigan. The views from the train are quite different than from the highways, I had no idea there were a bunch of tiny-house communities near the railroad tracks. they looked pretty well put together but only a step or two away from being shanty towns; The ramshackle tiny homes had the occasional solar panel and all of them had little gardens.
I arrived to Heidelberg and walked to my hotel. It was hard to find how to get into the hotel because it is at the top of a parking structure and apparently the only way to access it is via the parking structure elevator, and I didn’t see any signs that said that. I eventually found it and checked in, and the view from my room directly to the castle was breathtaking. This was going to be a super cool night.
I got ready and headed out to the castle after dark. The structure was lit up and the pathways to the castle are open to the public 24/7, even if the castle itself is closed. The hike up was rather steep, and my wool cape was actually a little warmer than I needed as I huffed and puffed in my corset and boots up the hill. I got sat at a table “for the people who came alone” where 3 other people were sitting, 2 American gentlemen working in Munich to open a new office for CCG, a company responsible for Pokémon trading cards, and a German lady. We all immediately made friends. The buffet was excellent, and included a wine buffet along with whatever cocktails and drinks one could want.
I was pretty toasty by the time my coworker arrived to the party, and after checking my cape, joined the party in earnest. There were two dance floors, one in the ground floor of the main castle, where Germany’s biggest cask has been since it was built in the 1700s. It can hold 68,000 liters of wine, mirroring the crowd dancing to the DJ sets.
Upstairs was a different, fancier dance floor with a different, more pop-music focused DJ. I linked up with my coworker friends and bopped around a bit with them, then lost them after we went out for some fresh air. My new German friend from the restaurant found me on the stairs on the way back up to the dance floor, so I linked up with my new friends, and was herded up to the stage to dance. I am so happy I remembered to purchase, bring, and wear earplugs to the party!
After dancing at the front I lost both my drink and my new friends, found my old friends, and acquired another drink (water this time, cause I’m smart.) We people-watched for a while, as there were some really intricate costumes circulating, and I watched several ballroom and swing dancers find small spaces to dance. At some point the dance floor got far too warm, and I started getting rather tired, so I took my leave of both sets of friends (found the new ones on the stairs again, taking photos in the deep castle window), and weaved my way back to the hotel. Thankfully my corset has a side zipper so I took it off while I hiked back to the hotel, proud of myself for both remembering how to get back and not tripping or stumbling.
The headache I woke up with was not as bad as I was expecting, and I did not wake up as late as I expected. The hotel breakfast was perfect post party food, consisting of breads, lunch meats, some weird egg salad sort of things, fruit, and coffee. I packed up my party clothes and headed out to walk around the castle in the daylight before I caught the train home.
The hotel receptionist had mentioned some stairs to reach the castle and had recommended the footpath for getting to the party, rather than going up the stairs. I was curious so I went up the stairs to the castle. It felt like approximately 68,000 steps, but it’s actually more like 315. It was like time travel walking up, the old style houses with their little terraced gardens, their only access from these very steps.
When I got to the top and reached the castle battlements, the view was stupendous. A crow landed a couple meters from me, hopeful I might have food for him. I told him in German that I had no food for him, but thanked him for joining me, so he politely posed for a couple photos before flying off.
The vast expanse of the castle was lovely to explore, with a bunch of really neat statuary, various carvings, and views for days. I heard what sounded like parrot screeches, and ended up seeing a flock of wild ringed parakeets flying around being adorable. They have apparently naturalized in the area since the ’70s.
Finally, I hiked back down the hill on a different path and walked over to the train station, 10 minutes early to catch my train, which came on time. When I got home, Sensi wasn’t even mad, so all in all this small trip was a huge success. The S-Bahn was easy to navigate since I found a direct line with no transfers, and Heidelberg is a truly beautiful historical city. I am very excited to go back and explore more of the old medieval streets and go to some of the museums there.
1999 was a good year for Opel, it appears; this Astra is still traveling Germany’s Straßen 26 years later. I am at least the 3rd owner, though titles and transfers don’t appear to work the same here as they do back home. The original owner kept all their paperwork and had detailed notes in the manual. This will be helpful when I learn Car German, I am sure.
Rio Verde Pearl paint is barely chipped and faded where the top coat is finally starting to age. The front end reminds me of a similarly aged Honda Civic, the back end reminds me a bit of a Kia. The truncated hatch not held open by worn out struts hits me on the head while I try to shove a mattress box in the back while moving.
The American couple I bought it from were quite proud of it being automatic. I sheepishly told them this will be the first automatic transmission vehicle I have ever owned; the BMW i3 doesn’t count, it doesn’t have a transmission.
Sometimes the battery light stays on after the initial dash startup, and that means I have to rev the engine like this was an old RX8, cause otherwise the power steering won’t engage. The hopeful ‘S’ for Sport on the automatic shifter lever speaks of a time begone when the full 97HP was available. I can get to 130kmph on the Autobahn eventually. If I push 140, the font end starts to shake a bit so we just stick to 130. The heat works pretty well which is a definite plus in the wintery cold.
There’s a snowflake button on the side of the shift indicator that I am assuming it wants me to press when the snowflake shows up on the clock next to the exterior temperature indicator. I pressed it once when the roads were glistening promising reduced traction. I think it worked, but I also feel like the very soul exited the engine and left the Astra extra sluggish. I am told the AC does not work at all, which frankly, fine; we’ll see what the autobahn is like with the windows down I suppose.
Was there even Bluetooth at all in 1999? Certainly not in this vehicle. I play my music on the my phone speaker, which doesn’t sound awful; definitely not loud enough, however. The hand-me-down phone holder suction-cupped to the windshield stopped sucking (started sucking?) and won’t stick anymore. I had to get a new one, since I still rely on my navigation a lot. I got it in Dark Green to match the Rio Verde Pearl.
The light that pierces night, The dark fog parted. A beacon of yellow sun, Blue sky’s brightness. I am lost no more, Looking up, my compass. IKEA
My order was set for delivery between 1400h and 2100h on Friday. Had I known I would be working from home, I would have chosen the early block. Luckily, they arrived at 1530h and unloaded the stream for boxes and components into my empty living room. One of the delivery people asked me “Bist du Amerikanerin?” and when answered in the affirmative told me he thought so, my German has an American accent.
There is no IKEA store in Albuquerque unless you count the unmarked, sketch-looking warehouse where you can have some items shipped, apparently (I just found out about this right now, googling to see if I had missed one), so I have only encountered the icon of Swedish build-it-yourself furniture and meatballs in media and popular culture. No, I have not tried the meatballs yet. It took me 3 visits to get over the overwhelm enough to actually order the furniture.
I feel like this being the IKEA in Albuquerque is oddly fitting.
The overwhelm crept in a bit when contemplating all the boxes of unbuilt furniture. I was supposed to go to dinner in a couple hours so I thought maybe I would start on the bedside table, it must be simple, right?
It was not. I ended up leaving the box half open, the instructions on the floor, and went to dinner at Mexican Pink in Kaiserslautern (such good tacos), and leaving the construction for Saturday.
I started with the IVAR shelving unit in the kitchen on Saturday Morning. The instructions wanted me to make friends in order to build these taller pieces, but I am stubbornly independent and used things like the door, the walls, and the kitchen drawers to play the role of a buddy helping me hold things up. I very quickly discovered that the tiny hammer in my tool kit was far too wimpy, and went to the hardware store in Landstuhl real quick to get a normal claw hammer, and a drill.
After getting the shelves set up and in their proper place, I populated them with some of my kitchen things and pantry items, and was very pleased.
After a lunch break and a pause to go to the BX for a few kitchen organizer items, I went upstairs and tacked the EKET nightstand that had intimidated me so on Friday. I was Jack’s complete lack of surprise; it was really quite complex to put together. I was really happy to have the drill at some point – they wanted me to use a screwdriver, however I do not have the strength of 30 men in my hands and was having trouble getting everything as tight as it should be.
I became overly ambitious after the EKET and decided to get started on the PAX, the wardrobe I had custom designed on the website. It was a feat of strength to get the boxes for it up the stairs, they were quite heavy. I got the thin side with the closet door and single drawer in, and put together the closet shell of the wide section, but had started making dumb mistakes and my muscles were starting to complain a bit too much, so I called it quits before assembling the drawers and shelves for the wide side.
Sunday dawned to freezing fog. The grocery store parking lot being empty made it eerie and almost liminal. After making coffee, carefully stretching my poor, stiff body, and starting some laundry I tackled the 4 drawers and shelves to complete the wardrobe. Everything looks really nice, and I am happy to have my clothes no longer stacked on the floor. Sensi seems to approve of the wardrobe, it makes her eating area a bit more secluded.
The fog persisted into the mid afternoon, and the sun came out just in time for a lovely sunset. There have been some really gorgeous sunsets over here with the winter sun dipping into the southwest horizon, magnified by the atmospheric lensing. Germany is really beautiful.
I am working some 4/10s this week so that I could have today off, as this was the first opportunity MediaMarkt had for my appliance delivery and installation. I got my Starlink internet equipment Monday, and so have some decently fast home internet set up now. My washer, dryer, and most importantly, my refrigerator are being delivered and installed today.
Being off work, I started the day a little later than normal, and was doing a small bit of tidying up in the kitchen before I made coffee and did important things like brush my hair, or put on any kind of layer or shoes. I popped out the front door quickly to put some trash in one of the outdoor trash bins, came back, and my heart sank when I realized the door had fully shut behind me. I was locked out, all three copies of the house keys, my phone, my jacket, my shoes, all locked away.
I felt like a complete idiot I tried to ask Sensi through the door to pull down on the handle, but alas even if she understood at all, she is too small to reach and almost certainly not heavy enough. I looked around the various windows but it turns out my new abode is very secure from intruders. And from locked out tenants.
I bare-footed my way over to the neighbor’s house and rang the doorbell. He opened the door and I started trying to say I was locked out in German “Entschuldegen sie mir bitte, aber ich bin die neue nachbarin und ich habe mir…. locked out? uh..” “Oh no!” he replied in English, “let me call your landlord, please come in”. I expressed my embarrassment and gratitude, talked to my landlord on the phone, expressed more embarrassment and gratitude as he said he’d be able to head home to grab a spare key and come meet me at the house, it would take him about an hour.
The neighbor and I sat in his downstairs room and made some small talk; he gave me a pair of socks to borrow and made a cup of coffee for each of us. He said “You’re very lucky. Normally I am not home until quite a bit later but I had to stay and take care of some things here!” He told me how much he loves Hamburg, and a bit about the area; he’s from Landstuhl, his wife grew up in the house we were sitting in.
My landlord arrived, he found the spare key and was able to let me in. “You’re very lucky” he said, “Normally I would be all over Germany and not close to home, but today I was nearby and able to interrupt without problems.”
I made breakfast and contemplated luck. If I were really lucky, wouldn’t I have not locked myself out of the house in the first place? But then in my bad luck of getting locked out of the house, I was doubly lucky that I could get quick help where it normally wouldn’t be available. Either way I think I need to start wearing my housekeys on a necklace or something. I will probably be excessively paranoid about locking myself out going forward.
I spent the rest of the day getting various packages, building some furniture, waiting for the appliance delivery, and creating a list of thinks I will be buying from IKEA soon to start populating the rooms with useful things. Earlier in the week I borrowed an OBD2 reader from a coworker to find out how kaput my auto is. Seems the codes imply that the connecting rod bearings in the engine failed. So bad news, blown motor(?), but good news, likely a part of a global recall for these vehicles. Another thing on the list of things I need to worry about at some point soon. Thankfully the 1999 Opel Astra I have is working great. But that means I am out an SUV for a while and will therefore have to get my new furniture delivered.
I guess the same theme holds for my Hyundai. Unlucky: it broke. Lucky: I could get it towed back; I was able to read the codes; it’s probably a recall; I have another vehicle to drive in the meantime.
I grew up with the original Roxy cast recording of Rocky Horror Show; Tim Curry, Meatloaf, upbeat rock riffs… As a little kid it sounded like normal science fiction stuff. As a teenager I got to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show movie, still starring Tim Curry and meatloaf; the songs were more languid in the movie version, but it is still iconic. I never wound up seeing the production live.
2024 is the 50th anniversary of the original musical, and back in December Instagram served me up ads informing me of the Germany leg of the anniversary tour. The closest showing to me was in Mannheim, and there were still some decent seats available at the time, so I bought one.
I had no idea at the time that I would be in the midst of moving into and furnishing my house, but I still headed out Saturday afternoon driving East on the 6. The show would be in the Rosengarten Congress Center in Mannheim, a gorgeous art deco building toward the center of the large city on the bank of the Rhine.
The drive was gorgeous, even passing a half-ruined castle right by the side of the Autobahn. The speed limit dropped in that area due to a low mountain pass, but it gave me a moment to appreciate the view of the Rhineland wine country.
Arriving at the Rosengarten, I got my Pre-Show Pretzel (if you don’t have pre-show pretzels, what are you even doing) and Sprudel Wasser, and headed to my seat
The show was excellent, the cast comfortable with their roles and singing beautifully. I wasn’t expecting to get a bit emotional when hearing the familiar tunes live, in a theater in Germany, the outsider and alien themes of the show somehow reflecting my own status as a foreigner and outsider in this land. The narration was in German, and the crowd played along with the show, squirting water, throwing confetti, and participating where appropriate.
It was quite the sight to watch middle-aged German men doing the Timewarp again, but I think we should refrain from getting strung out by the way folks look, and not judge books by their covers.
After the show I made my way out of Mannheim. The castle passed earlier was now illuminated in red light in the dark. Unfortunately my Hyundai Tucson appeared to night like that particular mountain pass and struggled to keep speed up the hill. The check engine light came on, and I thought, well there’s something else I’ll have to look into when I get home.
Unfortunately the car thought that was not good enough and lost power as the check engine light started flashing. Apparently that means “EMERGENCY DO NOT DRIVE” so I had to pull off at a rest stop and call a tow truck. A couple hours later the tow truck driver dropped me and mein kaputtes Auto at home. Duolingo came in clutch, cause none of the people I had to interact with to get my car towed spoke English except the tow company rep on the phone.
What ever happened to Saturday night? When you Left your job and felt alright? Don’t seem the same since cosmic light Came into my life, I thought I was divine
Germany is enchanting. Weaving through the modern houses in Ramstein to make it to a trail my phone is directing me towards, the evergreen trees of the forest tower in the background. Sure, the sky is gray, and it is below freezing; frost dominates the cars that line the streets and decorates foliage; but the clouds have variation and nuance. Despite the cold, it’s still quite green.
I understand the folklore and fairytales a bit better now that I’ve gone on a few local adventures. One moment you are walking next to a train track with a dense forest next to you, and the next you are out in an emerald frosted field. A ruin, looking impossibly old, rises from the reeds, a tumultuous cloud cover looming over it, signaling cold.
From the field another enchanted forest, wild blackberry brambles and fallen mossy branches litter the forest floor, a soft covering of fallen deciduous leaves giving off a pleasant scent of gradual decay. Time is either stopped or moving much faster here, it’s hard to tell. Another abandoned structure, either hundreds of years old or left there in 2016; could either in this space.
If you pushed your hand into the thick moss on that dead stump in the middle of the darkest part, I’m pretty sure you’d get pulled into another world where the fae feast and you forget who you are.
I walk with the modern assurance that the forest will release me back to the paved streets of Ramstein, to a road whose name designates which other village you can reach if you walk on it long enough. Ancestors weren’t wrong feeling the black eyes of the crows gazing down as they wound through these magic places, hoping to make it back to their cozy fires.
(This is a story I posted on Facebook on 9/9/18 when it happened, but as I am deleting that profile, I wanted to move it here.)
I’m laying in bed on the edge of dozing, listening to the drone of the movie, the screen is the only thing illuminating the room. The fan is on and blowing at me, so the tickle of movement on my bare leg could be cat hair or on of Sophia’s many feathers, so I ignore it.
That is, until I feel Sensi jump up on the bed next to the tickle with an aura of interest. The tickle persists and I figure I must have a small spider on me, it’s happened before. In the pale glow I see something that is clearly the wrong shape for a little spider as I start shooing Sensi away. The shape stops in that lovely relaxed tail position letting me know that so long as the cat stays away from it, this little scorpion on my bare leg isn’t going to sting me. But she’s also not going anywhere. So I turn on my phone flashlight for a better look, and indeed she is one of our little desert scorpions.
But there’s nothing nearby to put her in, and she’s on my damn leg and I don’t want to lose her on the beige carpet, or worse, in my damned sheets. I’ve managed to go 31 years without getting stung by a scorpion and I do not plan on having Sensi break my record, insistent as she is to hunt the thing. She doesn’t even look concerned, I’m sure she knew I was in no danger. She just wanted to play with and murder the thing. Cats.
So I’m looking around while keeping and eye on both Sensi and my guest all while illuminated with the flashlight. I start scooting off the bed with an outstretched leg. In my previous experience scorpions don’t care much what you do as long as you are chill about it, so I’m just moving slowly. There’s an empty plastic box and an oversized envelope on the floor, so I shoo Sensi away again, press the box against my leg, and herd the scorpion into the box. Except she stays on the envelope, which is fine.
I had this small flash of fear that I had thrown away my tiny critter carrier in my recent room purge, but thankfully I did not. I took the whole thing, scorpion, envelope, box, carrier, cat and flashlight, turning lights on on the way, and got some soil, shook my new friend into the critter carrier, and put some rocks in there that she can hide under. She’s pretty well fed so either getting ready for winter or pregnant. Time will tell I guess.
So I didn’t get stung, Sensi is disappointed, and I have a new scorpion pet. I also closed the window that I’m pretty sure she came in from cause I don’t really want anymore unexpected bedfellows. Things get awkward when I have to kick them out.
Margarine is Murder 