It's not my fault that I don't get along with the desert. It's one thing to see lizards, snakes and (gulp) tarantulas in their native habitat--the zoo--it's another to come in contact with said creepy crawlers in your driveway.
Don't get me wrong, I don't hate the coyotes, feral cats, bobcats and roadrunners that crap all over our patio. It's those smaller, more insidious things that make my skin crawl and make me "Run, Forrest, Run" into the sanctuary of our abode.
Don't get me started on the rattlesnakes and scorpions. The former in our backyard (where I heard the skin-crawling "rattle" and the latter hanging out in our bathroom or once in our kitchen sink.
What kind of place is this, anyway? The wild west? Oh yeah. We didn't sign up for revolting creatures as house-mates and we want out, please. So say a little prayer, light some sage or do a little dance that Lew's book gets snapped up. Soon please, soon.
Other than that, we love Tucson!
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