Totally losing it...

...and losing it big time. I hate it here, hate it here, hate it here. And by 'here' I mean this godforsaken country bubble that we've called home since 2009. What in the blessed world possessed us to buy a house so far out of the city limits. Must have been a blatant stroke of insanity.  And it was me who fell in love with this house, my husband who fell in love with the property... and both of us should have had our heads examined before signing on the dotted line.

Just the other night I was sitting in my chair in the breakfast room, browsing on Google and looking for a literary agent. (I've learned that without an agent, one's chances of publishing a book are zero to zilch.)  As I was scrolling down the computer screen, I felt my blouse moving... odd... so I just flicked at my blouse without even looking down... and not a split second later, I thought I had better look to see if anything was there... and right on the cushion of my chair was a scorpion. And not a little one.

I jumped up, Sweet Pea jumped up (the cat was on the chair opposite me), and my husband came running into the breakfast room (he had been watching a ball game in the TV room). Gary killed the scorpion, Sweet Pea ran out of the room, and I cursed everything about the insect world in this entire state.

Along with that first scorpion, we've been having snakes on the porch who are attracted to the nests of the barn swallows. Gary has killed three snakes in about a week's time, and heaven only knows how many baby birds have been eaten by other snakes after dark because I keep sweeping up broken nests every morning.  And every day, I curse the wildlife that surrounds us out here.

Tonight was a repeat of the other night.... Gary was watching TV and I was searching the Internet for literary agents who might represent my 357-page story about Savannah.  And then I noticed that Sweet Pea was sitting on the floor and just staring at me... at my slacks... and his eyes kept moving up and up... and I looked down and there was another damn scorpion crawling from my slacks to my blouse.

I screamed for Gary and tried to hold the blouse away from my body... the scorpion tensed up and put his blasted tail up... but he stayed where he was and my husband flicked him off of my blouse and he landed on the floor, and then I used my shoe to smash the blasted thing because my husband wasn't wearing shoes.

Why is it that every blasted damn snake and scorpion and wasp is clearly in my sight or right near me every blasted time?  Honestly, am I wearing a welcome sign for all of the godforsaken insects and reptiles in the Hill Country?

After the scorpion thing tonight, I just lost it... shaking and crying and totally out of control... telling my husband that I hate it here, just hate it out here and I miss living in Clear Lake, miss the house that we had and the subdivision it was in... I just miss everything that we had and I could move away from this godforsaken property and never look back.

It's just always something out here.... if the baby goats aren't being slaughtered by the farmer across the road, then fireworks are going off on the other stupid neighbor's property.... snakes killing baby birds and scorpions in the house and tarantulas in the garage. I have had it. Just had it. I told my husband what I've told the ladies at the tea parties... that if anything ever happened to him, I'd be calling a realtor before calling an undertaker. Without a doubt, I'd be moving out of this house, giving the keys to a realtor and telling them to just sell it for whatever they can get for it.

After I stopped crying and shaking, I got out the vacuum cleaner and went over the rug in the breakfast room. My husband looked all over the floor and underneath all the furniture in that room. Even Gary said "What are the chances of that happening twice in just a few days?" (Well, welcome to my world.)  I have taken my lap-top out of the breakfast room. No more sitting in my quiet little corner for typing or reading. The lap-top is on the kitchen counter now and I'm standing up as I type this. I guess my next choice for a long typing session will be the dining room table or the table in the living room.

I told my husband that I've had it with living out here. I'm tired of being scared, tired of finding creatures in the house and in the garage, and I'm just tired of this blasted country bubble. I don't care how beautiful the property is, I don't care how much I love this big old house. I am just tired of it all and I could move out tomorrow if given the chance.