Day 113 - Freakout

I originally hail from the land of Houston, where tree roaches are often big enough to saddle up and ride to work. After a certain amount of time (in my estimation, usually 3 years), newly settled inhabitants get over initial freak-outs and condition themselves to a roach reaction I call "Hey and spray." (Hey, there's another one. Where's the Raid?) 

Having crested this tidal wave of horror-movie-sized invaders, I cockily thought nothing could phase me. Austin is a paradise in comparison to Houston. No influxes of flying tree roaches (they like to jump in people's hair),  just representation from the upper crust such as butterflies, dragon flies and birds.

But much like the empire, Austin struck back. I saw a scorpion* traipsing across my bedroom floor. 

Despite the smaller size (about as long as my dainty, dainty palm), my fight-or-flight instincts crushed in. If a bystander had been, er, bystanding, then he/she would have seen me:

1. Gasp
2. Freeze, then slowly shake from side to side
3. Stare, then cringe
4. Scan the room for objects of war
5. Frown guiltily and look for a cup or bowl or vessel to trap it in (so I could release it into the wilds)
6. Shake hands out of indecisiveness
7. Go ape-crap crazy on the poor thing with a slipper

Later, while telling this story to my good friend Julie, she informed me that the little ones can hardly sting and are pretty much harmless. You don't even feel it. Yes, I am more of a monster than the scorpion itself.

But to round out this story with a Brady Bunch moral, the experience reminded me of my initial reaction to unemployment. I spent roughly 9 months worrying about unemployment - from the moment my company's acquisition was announced (May 2009) to the acquisition close (July 2009) to the time I knew I would be laid off (January 21, 2010 if you're keeping count.) How many hunks of hair fell out during that time? How many panic attacks did I have? And come to find out that, much like my friendly scorpion, there wasn't much sting to the actual sting.*

* Sure it wasn't ideal. But what I imagined was far, far worse.