A few days ago, I looked up to see a scorpion sitting on the ceiling, next to the wall. I grumbled to myself, "Great, a scorpion. I don't like scorpions. Scorpions are icky. I don't want to see a scorpion."
A moment later, the scorpion turned around and crawled into a crevice in the wall, vanishing from sight.
I need to choose my words more carefully. For all I know, that scorpion is still in the house, alive and well.