In the upstairs hall above the bathroom door. I can honestly say it took me about ten minutes to kill it. Ten seconds to whack it with the fly swatter, two seconds to realize that didn’t work, twenty seconds trying to squish it in half using the edge of the fly swatter as it frantically tried to sting the shiny purple plastic, five seconds to release it in the hopes that it would stick to the fly swatter, five seconds watching it fall to the floor still alive and intact while screaming “IT FELL, IT FELL, IT FELL”, three seconds to jump off the kitchen stool and stomp it to near oblivion with my foot safely caressed in your ugly boots. I believe fifteen seconds were spent on moving the boxes Josie put in the hall, delaying the inevitable by requesting the fly swatter followed by asking for the kitchen stool and tucking in the laces on the boots. The other nine minutes consisted of me trying (successfully until the scream) to maintain my composure, finding my courage to even GO up the stairs, while inside there was another version of myself running around in a panic screaming, “OHMYGODTHERE’SASCORPIONUPSTAIRSANDMYKIDSNEEDMETOKILLIT!” followed by a fleeting thought that perhaps I could call you to come kill the freaking scorpion while looking at the scorpion wishing it didn’t exist.
~The e-mail to my husband to answer his question.