There is nothing quite like the experience of stepping on a millipede in the middle of the night while on your way to the bathroom. At first it’s not too alarming. It is like stepping on a misplaced twig . . . until it curls up . . . and rides the bottom of your sock like a cockle-burr on a poodle’s butt while you hop to the nearest light-switch. It’s just as well that you are on your way to the bathroom, because vomiting at that point is a distinct possibility.
For the past two weeks I have been stepping on millipedes every single night, always when on my way to the bathroom or to the kitchen. Apparently, these millipedes are on their way to some sort of mecca. They are all heading for the kitchen, having first climbed out of the promordial slime of the bathtub’s ancient drain. I do not know what siren call they hear coming from my kitchen. I don’t find them once they cross the sacred threshold. For all I know, they reach the heating vent by the kitchen bar and fall in.
I am certain that it’s not the same millipede making laps, because all the millipedes that try to hitch a ride on my sock gets flushed down the toilet. At least that is better than what I used to do when encountering a bug in the house. I used to upend a trashcan over it and wait until my husband got up to go to work.
Which reminds me of the time a tarantula – or something very like it – got into our house when I was a teenager and living at home. My mother, my friend Vanessa, and I were coming home one night when Mom spotted a tarantula in the road. It was that big. We could see it squatting in the low beams like roadkill. Mom ran over it. I protested. It wasn’t doing any harm. It was just sitting there, enjoying the warmth of the pavement after a long day of eating crickets.
My tune changed when we got in the house. When Vanessa and I went into our bedroom to change our clothes, we discovered a tarantula in the middle of our floor. We ‘discovered’ it when it started chasing us, boinging through the air like an insane tiddlywink. It couldn’t decide whom to attack first. We started screaming, springing in the air in tandem with the tarantula, both Vanessa and me in a ludicrous state of undress.
I managed to get to the small en suite bathroom and grab the trashcan, upending it on the romping spider. It kept romping, hitting the trashcan with every leap and moving it a few inches each time, going toward the sound of our voices. It was diabolical. It was vicious. It was like the thing had rabies and we were on its hit list.
We screamed for my mother, who eventually came and stood in our doorway, intent on her glorious moment of payback.
“It’s not hurting anyone,” she mimicked me, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb, one eye on the moving trashcan, the other on us. By then, Vanessa was on the top bunk of the bunk bed with her back pressed to the wall. “That poor little spider was just minding its own business, when -”
“Just kill it!” I screamed.
Somehow it took all three of us to do the dastardly deed with a broom. It kept jumping at the person with the broom, who, in turn, had to swat it out of mid-leap. You would think we were playing an impromptu game of baseball for all the batting, screaming, and running going on. Mom finally nailed it, grinding it unnecessarily into the shag carpet. I guess she wanted to make sure it was dead.
Making a silent vow to myself to never walk barefoot over that exact spot on the carpet ever again, I upended the trashcan over the pitiful remains, keeping it fresh – and well flagged – for my Dad to clean up when he came home.
Hmmm . . . I won’t even go into the time a 5 inch scorpion came up through the drain while I was washing my hair.
Anyone out there have any bug-tales they want to share? Please spread the horror and tell us about it. Remember, to leave a comment, click on the ‘Comments’ tag at the end of this blog, and don’t forget to check out the latest Photoblog on the right!
‘And now for something completely different’ – click on this link below for your laugh of the day and watch with the sound up: http://www.thebigshow.com/video_day/videoNew.php?day=2010-08-18 This is not for the faint of heart!
And, finally, for those of us who need an antidote just about now, click on this site contributed by my friend Merrie Knox and watch it to the end to get the joke: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQSNhk5ICTI