Mr. Cricket has returned. He (or she- the sex of crickets is never obvious) appears every year about this time to herald the arrival of later summer. Autumn will soon be here. Every night he makes quite a racket, chirping away somewhere in the kitchen. My attempts to locate him and shoo him out have been futile. He quiets down when I zero in on his location, which seems to be behind the kitchen cupboards.  I suspect the ghost (who lives on the west side of the house as well) finds Mr. Cricket equally annoying as we’ve had no signs of him lately.

Someone isn’t so concerned about the racket as he is concerned Mr. Cricket may have siblings. Worse, crickets entice scorpions.  Cricket chirping is annoying but scorpions is right out.  I wonder what entices crickets in the first place to enter our abode.  Crickets are supposed to bring good luck, aren’t they?

Fumigating the whole house to shut up one cricket seems like overkill; a chemical cutting off your nose to spite your face.  Every August we debate what we should do until time passes and Mr. Cricket seems to go away for another season.  Perhaps he actually dies and we are in the 3rd or 4th generation of his descendants.

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