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Oct. 12th, 2004 11:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mirajeHave I ever expressed my intense loathing of centipedes? Have I ever explained why I loathe them so? If not, then here you go...
When I was a wee little 5 year-old, we lived in a house that was completely infested with centipedes and roaches. Many of my nights were spent trying to get to sleep while the centipedes scurried around on ceiling above my head, in my bed, on the floor, and on the walls. The roaches' main habitats were the kitchen and laundry room, so they were less of a problem. Anywho, as if this wasn't enough, my mom tried to spray one that was on my bed with 409 to try to kill it. I was standing right there watching, and as soon as she sprayed it, all of the legs detached from the body and started writhing independently all over the comforter that I was supposed to sleep under. After several minutes, every piece of the thing finally stopped moving, but I was pretty much horrified by it. I remember having nightmares in a Fantasia broomstick fashion where no matter how many I killed, they would break into a billion pieces and then all of it would come after me and try to get all over me. I don't remember Mom washing the blanket either, but for my sake, I certainly hope she did. We eventually moved out of that house, but I have been completely mortified of centipedes ever since. Usually when there's someone else around, I make them kill it because I don't want to watch it die. Today, however, I had no one around to save me. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting in my office just as I am now, and I saw one of those fuckers crawling along the floor toward my bookbag. I had a mini panic attack, but I would have much rather developed the courage to kill it than to let it nestle into the bookbag that I was supposed to pick up, put on my shoulders, and carry home. I knew what it would do when I smashed it, so I didn't want any part of that thing on my shoe. I grabbed the phone book instead and thwacked it as hard as I could. As predicted, most of the legs came off and started twitching and moving, something of which I am still shuddering and freaking out over even though I killed it like five minutes ago. I did not want to see that. God, how the fuck did it get up here into my office on the third floor of this huge building?! I can't put my bag on the floor anymore...I just can't.
When I was a wee little 5 year-old, we lived in a house that was completely infested with centipedes and roaches. Many of my nights were spent trying to get to sleep while the centipedes scurried around on ceiling above my head, in my bed, on the floor, and on the walls. The roaches' main habitats were the kitchen and laundry room, so they were less of a problem. Anywho, as if this wasn't enough, my mom tried to spray one that was on my bed with 409 to try to kill it. I was standing right there watching, and as soon as she sprayed it, all of the legs detached from the body and started writhing independently all over the comforter that I was supposed to sleep under. After several minutes, every piece of the thing finally stopped moving, but I was pretty much horrified by it. I remember having nightmares in a Fantasia broomstick fashion where no matter how many I killed, they would break into a billion pieces and then all of it would come after me and try to get all over me. I don't remember Mom washing the blanket either, but for my sake, I certainly hope she did. We eventually moved out of that house, but I have been completely mortified of centipedes ever since. Usually when there's someone else around, I make them kill it because I don't want to watch it die. Today, however, I had no one around to save me. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting in my office just as I am now, and I saw one of those fuckers crawling along the floor toward my bookbag. I had a mini panic attack, but I would have much rather developed the courage to kill it than to let it nestle into the bookbag that I was supposed to pick up, put on my shoulders, and carry home. I knew what it would do when I smashed it, so I didn't want any part of that thing on my shoe. I grabbed the phone book instead and thwacked it as hard as I could. As predicted, most of the legs came off and started twitching and moving, something of which I am still shuddering and freaking out over even though I killed it like five minutes ago. I did not want to see that. God, how the fuck did it get up here into my office on the third floor of this huge building?! I can't put my bag on the floor anymore...I just can't.
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Date: 2004-10-12 11:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-12 01:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-10-12 02:26 pm (UTC)