briar: oh god oh god oh god
Auto response from Peter: lunch
briar: there's a centipede in my room
briar: i do not like this
briar: i don't like it at all
briar: it's on my wall!
briar: what do i do?
briar: i need a boyfriend
briar: or my dad
briar: ack!
briar: it's moving!
briar: spraying it with windex and 409 didn't help
briar: peter i can't deal with this!
briar: I'm supposed to vacuum it up
briar: i can't
briar: i can't deal with this
briar: oh my god, it's moving again
briar: oh no
briar: oh oh
briar: it's in the ceiling
briar: okay it's "gone"
briar: but my floor is such a mess
briar: and they like dark damp places, and usually stick to baseboards, so I'll never really know
briar: eeeee this is so gross!
briar: i can't sleep
briar: because I know that's when it will fall on my face
briar: OH GOD IT'S COMING BACK OUT
And that's how the centipede ATE ME last night. Okay, fine. Nothing ate me. Mostly this sort of "dialogue" went on for a while longer while the centipede hung out on my wall (Peter came back just after the all-caps scream fest, but I was still doing most of the talking), and he finally convinced me to whack at it with a broom.
I scared it away, and finally got to sleep after 2:30 (let's put things in perspective a little by mentioning that I had gotten tired enough for bed at 11:30 last night). Using a broom, only when I was convinced that it wouldn't fall on me, or the floor, was the only way I could have been brave enough to do it. Lame? Maybe. Would I have called my boyfriend over at 11:32 when I first saw the thing? Uh. Yes.
I know, I know. That'll make 'em line up.
1 comment:
Just had to let you know that
a) the only time I actually hate being single and living alone is when there are bugs in my apartment
and
b) I always, always, always have to call someone for moral support as I kill bugs or deal with mice. I don't know why having someone to scream to helps the situation, but it does. Internet screaming works, too.
So you're definitely not alone on that, in other words!
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