With centipedes to watch over me
Incidentally, my icon is an anthropomorhized version of Penicillium chrysogenum. I know I have all the spellings wrong. It's from the absolutely hilarious anime on crack where the premise is that a college student an agricultural university has the power to see microbes with the naked eye. And they look cute a la Hello Kitty. You will eventually see the relevance of this.
If you knew me on a non-internet basis last fall, you are already probably more familiar than wish with my centipede woes. I love my apartment and I've genuinely enjoyed living by by self, except for one thing, and that's the centipedes. About 1 inch long, an infinite number of legs, and a fast scurrying motion that creeps me out beyond belief. I don't even know why I have them. I'm on the third floor and it's not like my apt is damp. At any rate, after much internet research and harassing of my landlord, I realized nothing can be done for centipedes beyond killing them one by one. And so I commenced on this practice late last summer, splatting baby and adult centipedes and feeling absolutely grossed out by and guilty about their flat carcasses. The guilt complex grew so great that about late fall, I switched it to a capture and release strategy. This is what i usually do with insects--spiders and the like, I'll catch them in a tupperware, slide a piece of cardboard underneath and then free the insect outside. But the centipedes were so damn fast and I was so scared of them (for someone who loves gardening, my completely irrational fear of insects is something of a burden) that it took a lot of guilt over murdering dozens of centipedes before I could commence on Operation Centi-freedom.
But I did, and as if to reward me for my sudden turn to good will, the centipedes disappeared. Then I realized it was merely a seasonal absence during the winter, for alas, dear reader, they are back. large, an infinite number of legs, and a scurrying motion that makes me feel ill.
I spotted one last night in my bedroom (I was on the phone with Xina and she can attest to my screams). I've been sick lately--turns out to be a nasty and persistent sinus infection, have a fever, feel utterly wretched (I will go to bed in a few minutes...hopefully by then the salad of drugs I've been prescribed will kick in and I won't feel like I'm slowly steam-broiling from the inside). Anyway, I've been sick and today seems to be the high-point in terms of feeling crappy. And yet oddly enough, (yes, I know I must be delirious) I've been comforted with the knowledge of the centipede, as if it were some sort of arthropodal guardian angel to watch over me as I lay here feeling wretched.
Pardon the feverish disjointed rambling. I think I will sleep now.
If you knew me on a non-internet basis last fall, you are already probably more familiar than wish with my centipede woes. I love my apartment and I've genuinely enjoyed living by by self, except for one thing, and that's the centipedes. About 1 inch long, an infinite number of legs, and a fast scurrying motion that creeps me out beyond belief. I don't even know why I have them. I'm on the third floor and it's not like my apt is damp. At any rate, after much internet research and harassing of my landlord, I realized nothing can be done for centipedes beyond killing them one by one. And so I commenced on this practice late last summer, splatting baby and adult centipedes and feeling absolutely grossed out by and guilty about their flat carcasses. The guilt complex grew so great that about late fall, I switched it to a capture and release strategy. This is what i usually do with insects--spiders and the like, I'll catch them in a tupperware, slide a piece of cardboard underneath and then free the insect outside. But the centipedes were so damn fast and I was so scared of them (for someone who loves gardening, my completely irrational fear of insects is something of a burden) that it took a lot of guilt over murdering dozens of centipedes before I could commence on Operation Centi-freedom.
But I did, and as if to reward me for my sudden turn to good will, the centipedes disappeared. Then I realized it was merely a seasonal absence during the winter, for alas, dear reader, they are back. large, an infinite number of legs, and a scurrying motion that makes me feel ill.
I spotted one last night in my bedroom (I was on the phone with Xina and she can attest to my screams). I've been sick lately--turns out to be a nasty and persistent sinus infection, have a fever, feel utterly wretched (I will go to bed in a few minutes...hopefully by then the salad of drugs I've been prescribed will kick in and I won't feel like I'm slowly steam-broiling from the inside). Anyway, I've been sick and today seems to be the high-point in terms of feeling crappy. And yet oddly enough, (yes, I know I must be delirious) I've been comforted with the knowledge of the centipede, as if it were some sort of arthropodal guardian angel to watch over me as I lay here feeling wretched.
Pardon the feverish disjointed rambling. I think I will sleep now.