I haven't made good on my blogging intentions, which seems to be my constant diatribe here whenever I do write. I lost my Internet connection at the new place, though, I'm sure I can get it back as soon as Snark gets back.

Snark pointed out that my last blog entry was pretty general and cheery; none of the tribulations mentioned  in it that seem to charge each phone call I make to him in these last two weeks of being back.

Here's the scoop on how, bit by bit, I'm losing my sanity:

The first two nights started with the front door to my studio apartment not closing well, and the creepy basement door swinging open from the wind, since the front door didn't shut tight. Also, the sound of metal trash cans dragging across concrete all night long. And an animal snorting around in the yard outside my bedroom window. I would lie awake trying to discern the unfamiliar noises that split open my imagination while I stoically tried to ignore the creepy basement door (that, of course, anyone could be hiding in). The small lamp in the bedroom was on for both nights.

By the third day I had figured out with Colleen that the trash can noise was actually a haphazard stack of metal ladders in a partially open shed-like structure right next to my bedroom. The wind whipping through them was causing the ruckus. I also figured out how to slam the front door shut to keep it closed, so I could lock it from the inside. Finally, I put a lock on the basement door to keep it from swinging open.

The third night, the evening began with the lizard in my bedroom that I first thought was a small snake because it had the same type of skin markings and coloring as a rattle snake. But (after some careful inspecting) it turned out to be a lizard. I caught it and tossed it outside into the yard. Then there were the two, defining spider incidents that set off an ever-continuing spiral of creepy crawlies.

The first spider introduction was to a round, black, thick spider that lives in a hole in the corner of my tiny bathroom. That night I thought it was a baby tarantula, but since I've only seen it's legs since and not it's entire body, I'm not sure. The second was the size of my fist, dangling above my bed from the low ceiling. I struggled to stay awake so I could keep my eye on it. Eventually it disappeared. I dreamed that it disappeared into one of the holes in the beam spanning the width of the ceiling, but the next morning I realized that could be possible because the hole was too small for such a large spider. I figured I probably dreamt it and chalked it up to an expanding, limitless imagination.

Yet on the fourth evening, it was still early; I was sitting on my bed talking to Patma on the phone when I spotted the fist-sized, nude colored spider again. It was real. It was in a complicated spot to catch in a jar, so Colleen ended up catching it for me by using gloved hands, taking it outside, and tossing it over the wall.

Then there was also the dead scorpion I found in my dish drainer. But it was dead, so not nearly the same heart-stopping threat posed by the live crawling creatures. I finally slept well on the 6th night. I theorized: the more lights on, the better. I kept them blaring the whole night in the bedroom and the living room.

The following afternoon, a little while after blogging actually, it was a centipede that pushed me over the edge. It skittered past my foot while I was sitting at the table in the "living room" area, writing a postcard. This was not just some creepy, little, many-legged centipede. It was bright, orange-red, and as long as my foot. No exaggeration. Google image search "Arizona centipede" and you'll see how creepy they really are. Colleen tried to catch this one too, but it crawled under the woodwork of the baseboard behind the couch. That night, I spent at a friend's house.

The 8th night, I tried my place again. When I entered the apartment that evening, I began to make some tea, but when I picked up the electric tea kettle, a big-ole-spider crawled on my hand and up onto my arm. Not fist-sized, but still big. Thumb-sized. I shook my arm and it landed on the floor and quickly crawled up the front door and hid beneath the sarong I had hung for a curtain. I caught that one after a couple of attempts. I flushed it down the toilet, flushing the toilet a few times to make sure it went down--and stayed down. I was feeling less compassionate about creepy crawlies feeling at home in my new space; once their home, but now my home. We couldn't live together. It just wasn't working. I also discovered that two fair-sized spiders lived on the toilet, under the tank, and were spinning webs from the toilet bowl to the wall. Those I could not catch with a jar; the positioning was too awkward. That night, each time I peed, I did so with the awareness of spiders living inches from my butt; I perched gingerly on the edge of the bowl and peed as quickly as I could, then ran back to bed to wait for morning.

The 9th evening, I left to meet Andy for yoga class. It was dark. Just as I began to take the 144 stairs down to her house, Veggie Dog's famed skunk crossed the stairs a few steps down from me. It crossed from Emma's big yard into her small yard by the house only a few feet from the stairs and stayed. I inched down the stairs cautiously, but as quickly as I could. Luckily, without being sprayed. The same on the way back up the stairs to go home because it was still in the yard. And once I started to enter my yard I heard another animal, which I assumed was a skunk. It was dark, so I walked very hesitantly. I could hear it moving away from me, but as I rounded the corner of the L-shaped yard to where my front door is, I saw that it was, in fact, a javalena. It had no where else to back up to and was blocking my only way to get inside. I backed out of there quickly too and shakily called Colleen on the phone, standing in the driveway. No answer. I headed back down the stairs, past the skunk once more, and to my neighbor's house (my yoga teacher actually) where I promptly spent the night, exhausted, stressed, and utterly thankful for welcoming neighbor's with clean, creepy-crawly-free homes.

The 10th night in my new place, I still had the practice of all lights blaring. The idea is to trick the creepers into not coming out because maybe they'll think it's the day. Not the best for Colleen's electricity bill or for the environment in general, but best at sustaining some illusion of peace of mind. It actually does work pretty well. That night I just figured I'd stay up reading as long as I wanted because why even try to pretend I was going to get any sleep? I discovered that there are also cock roaches making the floor and wall their highways, but at this point, these guys are the least of my worries. Cockroaches? No big deal in the face of other Arizona wildlife.

Anyway, this all leads up to the last two nights, which have been heavenly because I am back at my neighbor's house dog-sitting for her while she's in Santa Fe. Oh, sweet relief!

Tomorrow I will be at the basement studio for good, but Snark gets back to Bisbee tomorrow night and he has promised to help take care of all the creepy crawlies. It gives me comfort to know I won't have to battle them at night alone.