|Ki kote krab arenyen an?|
Where is it?
Is it dead?
This is someone looking to see if the tarantula on which Sister just threw Clorox is dead. Unfortunately, this is not someone finding the answer.
Ba'm di'w: Combat boots. I'm telling you.
I should have another photo of a staff member laughing at me as I informed them that if that thing came into my room, I was on the next plane to Boston.
Chere Soeur, she said, it can't come into your room. It can't get under the door. And there is nowhere in there for it to hide.
So I named a few places.
Chere Soeur, they only come out at night.
Good, I said. I will get in bed under my mosquito net before dark and not get out till midmorning.
Chere Soeur, it has to be dead. She threw Clorox on it.
Good. I hope it doesn't have family.
No, chere Soeur, it has no family at all. And if it does, they're outside by the trash.
Where they need to stay, I said. They are not welcome here. (In this case, the Episcopal Church does not welcome you.) Have I mentioned that I take out the trash after doing the supper dishes? If I put my bug spray on a carabiner hook from my belt... hmmm...
So - mes cheres Soeurs in Boston, if the doorbell rings about 3AM, you will know who it is. Meanwhile, I'm going to go look for some combat boots. And my camera, of course.