Unexplored Territory

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Do you have a hero?

Have you ever had a hero? Do you have one now?

That one person who will do anything for you. That one person who shows up at the right time, and takes care of something for you?

This morning, this decided to run across my kitchen floor....

That is a common house centipede.

Now.... there are two words there that just do. not. belong. next. to. one. another.

That would be house and centipede.

I was folding laundry because my wonderful friend Robin was swinging by with an iced coffee for me so we could sit and chat for a few.

And then ... I saw it ... out of the corner of my eye. It moved quickly as centipedes tend to do.

I screeched. I jumped out of my chair so fast that I almost fell over it. The younger two were in the living room, peeking in to see what had caused me to have such a horrific reaction.

I got out the 409 that I had used earlier that morning to asphyxiate a spider who was doing one of those drop things from the ceiling. I don't do spiders, people. I just don't.

And I don't do centipedes more than I don't do spiders.

I hate them. And it is the one insect that Ace will admit he can't stand, either. So I am sure if he were here, he would have been screaming like a little girl, too.

I started spraying this centipede with Forumla 409. Did you know that centipedes are hardy little creatures?

That damn bug ran from one side of my kitchen to the next, all the while being laden down with three squirts of 409 every step it took.

And then ... it disappeared. I mean... literally vanished. I turned my back on it for two seconds to get a paper towel (don't ask me what I thought I was going to DO with that towel... I hadn't worked up to that point yet), and the little mofo was gone.

I had to move the laundry basket that I had been working on out of the way. A pair of the Queen's underwear had inadvertently landed on the floor.

And that centipede thought that that underwear was the refuge it needed to get away from the mad, pissed off housewife with the bottle in her hand. He had apparently seen the work I had made of that innocent spider, so he decided he should lay low for a bit.

I moved those underwear, and there he was.... under the underwear. STILL alive, the little ba**ard.

So I did what every person who has witnessed the only sole survivor of the nuclear holocaust known as the 409 bombs would have done: I threw my paper towel on it and started ~~giggling~~crying, exclaiming that I didn't know what to do with the bug. The Man had to ask me numerous times if I was "ok. Are you CRYING mommy?"

Yes son. Mommy is crying. And you will need to call 911 here in a minute to get the ambulance here when Mommy has her coronary.

Then I hear a door open. And I look out in my driveway.

My knight in shining armor has arrived. With angels on her shoulders, and a bolt of lightning in her fist, she entered my house and rid me of that bug.

Here is a picture of the kill....

I told you it was huge.

To my dear and wonderful friend... anything you need, I will do it for you.

Just ... make sure it doesn't look like a centipede.

Labels: centipedes, friends

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.

The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.

The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.