Cricket Hunting

The Remains:

What happened to that disgusting, no good, fast jumping cricket? Well let me tell you the story of this cricket:

Last week sometime:

Maintenance comes to spray garage for crickets because we have a lovely cricket cemetery in an empty bucket in the garage. (This is where I would show a picture if I thought I could take a picture without throwing up.)

Saturday morning:

Carry L's laundry basket to laundry closet. (note that it is a closet, not a laundry room) Run water in washer and add soap. L and Rob in her room playing. Notice gigantic black creature on top of L's clothes. Scream. Jump. Act like a 5 year old. Call Rob into the get the cricket. Bring Rob toilet paper to kill it. He yells says he needs a paper towel so he doesn't get cricket guts on him. (picky, picky) Run for paper towels. Come back to laundry closet and hear the terrible news. HE GOT AWAY. Spend next 45 minutes searching and hunting the cricket. Move washer and dryers, search with flashlight, drain the washer to make sure he wasn't in it, look through all clothes that were hanging in the laundry closet. Close laundry closet doors and pray that he can't squeeze under the doors to get out into the hallway. Begin searching internet for how to hunt a loose cricket. Ask Rob to go check on the laundry closet every few hours to see if he could find him. Worry about our apartment becoming home to cricket babies.

Saturday night:

L's laundry is done. Begin moving the clothes to the dryer and see some black parts. EW! Cricket pieces!! Rob decides to rock L to sleep and put me in charge of picking cricket body parts off her clothes (because he isn't a good cricket picker he says.) Find a part. Put it on paper towel. Get grossed out. Switch jobs with Rob. Me: baby rocking, Rob: cricket picking. 5 clothing articles and still Rob has not found pieces. He tells me we need to switch jobs. Switch. Me: cricket picking, Rob: baby rocking. Still not finding cricket pieces. Rob calls me into L's dark room to see something funny she is doing. Me (multitasking as always), goes to look while pulling baby pants right side out. Stick hand in pant leg, scream, act like a 2 year old, freak out, wash off my hand and arm for 5 minutes. The cricket remains were contained inside of the pants that I just put my arm into. SWITCH! Rob: cricket picking, Me: Baby rocking and listening to Rob talk about how the head is mostly still in tact. ewwwww.

The good news of the story is that we do not have a loose cricket or any growing families of crickets..that we know of.