When I was growing up, this was my association with the word "centipede":Oh, how I loved this game. It was fun - it was fast - and it was fairly easy until you got up to the really high levels. I have a knack for scanning things, so this game fit me perfectly - my eyes constantly darting and looking for mushrooms and spiders and other obstacles to shoot away.These days, this is my association with the word "centipede":Eeegalabiggeeaaarggh ... I have shivers down my spine even looking at this thing. So imagine my chagrin when I realized we are roommates with these creatures! AARRRGH!
Why would I admit this? Because I have a feeling they are a lot more common than people let on. My friend has them, too - and since we didn't have them in the townhouse I would sympathize with her back then (we DON'T do bugs - one day I'll tell you about the wedding-day-rehearsal-day-bee-in-my-bedroom) and thank God that I didn't have any myself. Now, we cry together. I am not kidding how it is a daily conversation between us:
"I found one in the bathroom today. Hubby killed it."
"I found one in the dining room. I called Andy and he rolled his eyes, but he killed it."
"Mine was big - like 2 inches!"
"Mine was ten."
I was on the phone with Andy's mom once, sitting on my steps to the bedrooms and I looked up - and one was right above my head on the molding! I stopped her mid-conversation and would not let her hang up until I killed it. She was screaming right along with me.
Well apparantly they smell my fear. They aren't even running away anymore! "Nyah nyah - you can't catch us - we always get away and you so easily give up ... heh heh heh heh." They know when Andy isn't home and take advantage of that fact and parade around the house in their Sunday best. I've only ever seen one at a time - they're like the Sand People - they hide their numbers.
Not anymore.
Last night one was on the rug in the playroom. THE PLAYROOM! "You dare intrude on my daughter's territory? I am no longer afraid of you, centipedes!" I don't care if you are 2 inches long - with legs that make it seem like four! I have found your weakness - your Achilles heel! Lysol? Nope - does nothing! Shoes? Nope - you're too fast. Tyson upright with many attachments for getting in those tough to reach spots and not lose suction?
YES!
I calmly take a deep breath and pull out the purple vacuum. I manuever the fifteen things it takes to get the attachment with the arm. You don't move. (Audacity.) I position it right over or under you (you love mouldings). "Puh-lease," you say, "You don't have the nerve." I turn it on and SUCK YOU UP! HAH! I leave it on for a bit to make sure you are centrifuged apart into a millions pieces - and you are gone!
I have done this twice so far - and I feel empowered. I am not a violent person - but I am back to being the 12 year old girl scanning the screen for mushrooms and spiders.
Your move.