like a good neighbor; or, scorpion redux

So I'm sitting on my couch, feet up on it, luckily, when out from under the TV table strolls a very large scorpion. It heads for under the couch. It is big. If my last scorpion was maybe three inches, this one was easily four, probably four and a half. Right underneath me, casual as you please. Once it disappeared completely, I ran next door, summoned Kerry and her brother-in-law Tom (visiting from Chisholm, MN, land without scorpions) and they rushed over, Kerry with her camera and can of bug spray, Tom with a tennis shoe. Tom pulled the couch back, smashed the scorpion with his shoe and all was well. Then, as consolation (and so everyone will know why she is such a delightful neighbor), Kerry brought me a glass of wine to calm my nerves. I don't feel so much shaky as defeated: get me back to Minnesota, por favor. So here I sit, wine in hand, feet up on the coffee table, maintaining a serious level of alertness. Many people have explained that scorpion bites won't kill. This is not all that comforting, especially when followed by "your legs might feel numb for a few hours" or "the pain might be excruciating." You can believe that I won't forget my nightly scorpion-check-in-the-sheets routine.
The good news is: only one June bug (or whatever the hell they are) tonight. Those are harmless, of course, but unwieldy and annoying. And a glass of wine before bed. All will be well. All will be well. All manner of things will be well.