I am now faced with a terrible moral dilemma that is threatening the very foundation of my sanity. A cricket has taken up residence in our bedroom. And he does quite proficiently what crickets do. He sings. All night. Starting at 1:00a.m. And this one ain't no Mariah Cary. You know how you can hear crickets sing through a closed bedroom window even with the fan on? There is a reason for that. They are LOUD. Very LOUD. So I sleepily get out of bed and walk in the direction of the cricket noise. And the damn thing shuts up. So I start moving furniture, books, blankets, anything I can get my hands on that is coming from the direction of Mr. Cricket. No cricket. Cunning little shit.
Now, I remember this happened to me once back in college. At that time, I was so frustrated with the situation I finally resorted to the can of Raid and started spraying. Big mistake. For the next 2 nights I was subjected to the weak pathetic songs of a dying cricket. I had been so filled with remorse that had I been able to find him I would have taken him to the vet. So, no, not going to fall in to that trap this time. I'll just pick up my pillows and blanket, and move to the sofa until such time that nature takes its course and that cricket dies a natural death. Anyone know the approximate life span of a cricket?