Centipedes are THE WORST


Of all the bugs in the world, centipedes are THE WORST.

Die centipedes DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you read my blog, you’ve probably noticed this isn’t my first rodeo with a centipede, or millipede, or whatever they are (read about another Stupid Centipede experience).

I am a magnet for these disturbing night monsters.

About a week and a half ago at 1 AM I considered my irrational fear conquered. I woke up needing to pee. I taped my phone on my nightstand to see what time it was, and low and behold there in the shadows was a centipede. It was on the wall right above my pillow. A huge freakin centipede. So what do I do? In my urgent state I simply grabbed twenty or so Kleenexes, smash him off the wall, and flush him down the toilet to never see his sight again.

I’m actually impressed I did all this. I credit my calm to my still half-asleep state.

This week was a whole other story.

I walked into my bedroom around 11PM, reach for my laptop and there on the curtains is the biggest centipede I have ever seen!!!

Immediately I jog backwards a couple of feet and gasp. I start pacing, not sure what to do. Could I kill it myself? Maybe, just maybe. I grab 20 sheets of paper towel and creep closer to the creature. The more I looked at it, the more freaked out I got. Legs. So many legs. I tried to reach forward to smash the bug, but then backed away. I tried again, but I just couldn’t. It was just too gross.

I started shaking and dancing around. Ew. Ew. Ew. As much as I was trying to be brave, I needed help. I called my boyfriend (who is now fully aware of my antics involved with killing a centipede) and explained to him I was being attacked.

“There’s a centipede in my room!” I said wildly into the phone. I put him on speaker and he talked me through trying to get the bug killed. I ditched the paper towels and grabbed a bathroom towel. I started yipping around and squealing as I came closer and closer to making my catch. And then, finally, I worked up enough courage to do it and smashed him in the towel.

And that was my breaking point.

With the phone still on speaker, I dropped the towel with the partially smashed bug, screamed and ran away.

A very confused mother (oh the joys of living at home) walked out of her bedroom in her bathrobe.

“Centipede!” I pointed at the towel and picked my phone back up. She grabbed the towel, to which I peered in but ran away again when I saw the bug was still twitching. She carried the towel into the bathroom. I shakily danced around, but I needed closure to this problem and had to watch the bug being flushed down the toilet. I told my mom thank you and she shook her head and went back to bed. I thanked my boyfriend for his moral support.

For me, it takes a team to deal with these bugs.


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