I hade an insane girly moment this morning. Well, it was more like a girly three quarters of an hour.
I also found out that I'm incredibly deathly afraid of centipedes. I found one in the bath tub this morning, and it took seriously at least twenty minutes of high-pitched girly squealing for me to work up the courage to try to wash it down the drain. Every time I'd approach the tub with a glass of water, I swear the thing would lunge at me. It was horribly frightening.
It turns out, however, that a three inch long centipede won't go down a tub drain if it doesn't want to, so then there was another bout of hysterical girl squealing. I actually contemplated forgoing a shower, and calling my daddy to come take care of it. I don't think I've ever wanted a big strong man to come fix things so much in my life. It's too bad my daddy laughed at me when I called him, and also recommended that I not call the landlord about it.
So it was up to me. I put on elbow-length oven mitts (come on, it was THREE INCHES LONG. It could have eaten my pinky finger) , armed myself with a spatula and some paper towels, and I went to work. I cornered it in the tub, scooped it up with the paper towels and flushed it. And yes, I was squealing girlishly the whole time.
So now you know; centipedes scare the fuck out of me.
I also found out that I'm incredibly deathly afraid of centipedes. I found one in the bath tub this morning, and it took seriously at least twenty minutes of high-pitched girly squealing for me to work up the courage to try to wash it down the drain. Every time I'd approach the tub with a glass of water, I swear the thing would lunge at me. It was horribly frightening.
It turns out, however, that a three inch long centipede won't go down a tub drain if it doesn't want to, so then there was another bout of hysterical girl squealing. I actually contemplated forgoing a shower, and calling my daddy to come take care of it. I don't think I've ever wanted a big strong man to come fix things so much in my life. It's too bad my daddy laughed at me when I called him, and also recommended that I not call the landlord about it.
So it was up to me. I put on elbow-length oven mitts (come on, it was THREE INCHES LONG. It could have eaten my pinky finger) , armed myself with a spatula and some paper towels, and I went to work. I cornered it in the tub, scooped it up with the paper towels and flushed it. And yes, I was squealing girlishly the whole time.
So now you know; centipedes scare the fuck out of me.
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I dunno, did Popol Vuh do the soundtrack to Leningrad Cowboys, too?