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In 1982, my wife and I bought a house on 5 acres on a rocky hillside near Cabot, Arkansas. The first night in the house, we discovered scorpions had infested the house. I killed sixteen the first night, and we did not get much sleep. I had a black light for my security job at Southwestern Bell, and found most of them glowing green on the brick walls in the carport, and about six inside the house. We used diazinon (I don't think the public can buy this anymore), which was recommended by the Arkansas Agricultural Extension Service, to be mixed with water in a pressure sprayer three feet from the foundation, around all doors and windows, etc. We even used it from May-September on the baseboards inside. We had to remove the parrot and dogs most of the day, and we left the house for several hours after we sprayed. Diazinon killed them, but never completely, and for 18 years we fought those scorpions inside and out. The scariest incident was when I found a mother scorpion with twenty babies on her back. Our house shoes were kept on the nightstands, after I nearly stepped on a scorpion one morning in my bare feet. We also had to check the shower and tub before we stepped inside. The scorpions were also in our underground storm shelter, which my wife refused to enter after the first scorpion was found there. We never got stung, but our little dog did. In 2009, I wrote a story for my community newsletter about a nightmare I had back then, and scorpions were an important aspect of that story. I usually re-publish that story every October as a Halloween story in my blog. I live in Lindale, Texas, now, and only see a scorpion about every five years or so in my apartment.