Crazy Crickets

I am really losing my patience. For the past three weeks or so, we have continually been startled by finding crickets (although I am not at all convinced that it isn't the same cricket, over and over again) in various places around our home.

First, he was on the bathroom floor...then, on our bed (although I was a contributing factor to that, since that's where I dumped the pile of clean clothes in which the cricket had been hiding...still, disgusting)...then, in the hamper as I was removing dirty clothes (goodness, I do deal with clothes a lot around here)...the kitchen floor...under the coffee table...and, just now, by our shoes in the living room. Said cricket has now been captured and is now sitting underneath a cup, thinking about what he did. (Don't judge. I have a lot of time on my hands these days.)

Now, if it IS, in fact, the same cricket, the obvious solution, of course, would be to kill him. But, I don't like killing bugs in the house if they can be easily relocated to the outdoors. (With spiders being the exception. They step foot, er, feet in here, they're goners, plain and simple.) Plus, I do have a few fun childhood memories of my dad tying string to the rear legs of crickets so my sister and I could "walk" them around for a while. (You probably had to be there....)

I just wish I knew where they were coming from! I have examined the exterior wall of the apartment, and see no apparent point of entry. Hmm. It remains a mystery.

It's not as though the crickets are particularly threatening or present any real danger. And, it has provided a bit of entertainment as I watch Bobby capture them for release. (He's getting pretty good at it, I must say.) I am just getting really, really tired of the surprise and skipped heartbeat that comes from finding one unexpectedly.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a cricket to release. He's served his time.