It had been an otherwise pleasant day. We'd accomplished a good deal of housework and run several errands, and we were both ready to turn in for the night. I was tidying up the den when I heard him muttering about a "little bugger", then I heard him snarl, "stay still!" Seeing as how we have no pets and Ross is not one to talk to himself in such unkind language, I immediately assumed the worst. I called across the hallway and asked my husband what was wrong.
"Uh...nothing honey," came the less-than-confident reply. "Just...stay in the other room."
My heart sank. I had a feeling he'd discovered something in the bathroom that had more than two legs. Despite his protests, I peered into the bathtub. There it was, the first house centipede of the season, hurtling its little multi-legged way out of the drain in the bathtub.
"Really? Already?" I sobbed as he smashed the thing. It was only a baby - if such a tender term can be used when referring to a juvenile creepy-crawly - but that meant that there were probably others. Last year, they were everywhere, it seemed. Several accosted me while I was doing laundry, and now I never go into the basement without shoes on. One was hiding in the kitchen while I was cooking dinner and the bold, stupid thing had the audacity to rush me while I was at the stove. One even - quite literally - fell headlong from a damaged ceiling tile over the sink while Ross was washing the dishes. We nicknamed it The Paratrooper and promptly dispatched it. After I screamed bloody murder, of course. Now, I rarely curse. I very rarely use foul language. But when I see one of these awful things, I find it really, really hard to bite my tongue. I find myself cursing them, calling them names, shouting absurd epithets and threats at them. I find myself subconsciously checking each room for their presence, as well as for the presence of anything that can possibly be used as a weapon: a broom, a can of hairspray, a skillet.
It's not that they're particularly dangerous. In fact, house centipedes are probably among those "pests" that actually eat other, more annoying (but less scary) pests like ants or aphids or something like that. But who cares how "helpful" the things are? They're HORRIFYING to look at. They're not particularly huge bugs, but their eight million long, slender legs make them look much bigger than they really are. And, of course, having eight million legs, those suckers move FAST. They move so quickly, and their legs make them look so large, that I've mistaken them for mice on occasion.
I'd rather have a mouse living in the house. I'd welcome a mouse. Do mice eat centipedes? That would be even better.
The only perk I can see in all of this is that I'm no longer afraid of spiders. How can eight legs freak me out more than thirty?
yuck. we get earwigs here. they are also very unwelcome in our house, yet they keep coming back and bringing friends. when will they get a clue??
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