The spiders—and spider-like creatures—were just the beginning. I subsequently discovered mouse droppings all around the exterior of our house. Adam wasn't all that concerned, figuring that the outside is their turf more than ours. I felt differently, but then I cleaned the poop up, and then two days later, cleaned it up again, all the while fearing that I'd be cleaning it up every two days for the rest of our time here and convinced that I'd soon be the subject of a New York Times Magazine "Diagnosis" column about the dangers of rodent feces. (Reading that column is like Russian roulette: one in six ends unhappily.)
Then, while I closed the pool cover, a rat unrolled along with it. We were both shocked: I screamed, "Adam!", while the rat looked left and right, trying to determine what the hell was happening. Adam thought it was a large mouse. You can imagine how vindicated I felt when, the next day, he unrolled the cover and the rat—Adam's doubts were gone—ran right at him. Adam screamed, "Erik!", and the rat ran up the outdoor stairs, only to find me staring down at it. The three of us froze, like we were starring in a revival of Betrayal. Eventually, the rat jumped into some bushes.
Our friends Pete and Naria were due the next day. "Let's not mention the rat," said Adam. That plan worked brilliantly until, five minutes after they arrived, a rat—I do hope it's the same one—skittered right in front of Naria. She handled it bravely, more or less, although she would've been more polite to accept our explanation that Montecito bunnies quirkily resemble rats.
One night, Adam opened the balcony door in the master bath and there was a loud flapping noise. Sure that he was letting in a bat, I yelled at him to shut the door. The largest dragonfly I have ever seen—it was the size of a bird—stared at us through the window for a while. At another window, 50 moths flapped their wings madly, trying to get in. I swear, it felt like nature was reclaiming the property, and fast.
Then the ants came. I knew we were in trouble when I saw three in the kitchen one afternoon. Sure enough, the next morning they were marching en masse for the balsamic vinegar, which we keep on the counter because this crazy huge house has no pantry. Ziploc bags discouraged them until they found the honey. I'm always worried that houseguests think we live dirtily, and this didn't help.
A few months ago, a guy from the local pest control company came and sprayed the perimeter of the house; he said they do it every three months. I called the company to find out when the next visit would be, only to learn that the owner of the house canceled the service. We put out ant traps, which seemed to help, and arranged for another spraying. As for the mouse/rat situation, the company is sending over a rodent expert. (The house's owner, heretofore unresponsive, has jumped to action on this matter; the last thing he wants is for a potential buyer to see an army of ants in the kitchen or a rat hanging out by the pool.) The rodent guy can't come soon enough, because yesterday there was an hour of furious scrabbling inside the foyer wall....