Centipede #4 invaded our apartment last night. He was smaller than some of the other visitors we’ve had, but oh, so tricky. He faked like he was going into the bathroom, then turned on a dime and made a beeline in the other direction where we lost him for a few minutes. Was he under the couch? Or in the spare bedroom? And would we find out before bedtime, or would we spend a sleepless night jumping at every small movement of sheets? We worried that when we next saw our ugly friend, it would be when he reared his ugly head for a strike that would send us, once again, to the ER. Fortunately, we did not take off our shoes, so when he came crawling out from under the door mat, we were ready. He didn’t stand a chance against the stomping he was up against (in fact, we managed to knock some of his socks–I mean legs–off), and we were able to sleep reasonably soundly. But then we have to ask, How did he get in? Will his friends come to find him? *shudder*
At least he wasn’t in our bed.