While getting my hair done over the weekend, my stylist asked me if I enjoyed living alone. I said yes because I enjoy an oversized tee shirt and no one cares. I can leave dishes in my sink overnight and I don't have to shut the door when using the bathroom. She said there were things she missed about living alone. She's one of those married people that look back fondly at their single days. I told her there are pros and cons to both worlds and that I would welcome living with the right person, whenever I found him.
Ironically that night, I engaged in my secret single behavior (yes, I'm "leveraging" that term from Sex in the City). I was eating ice cream straight from the carton, watching a Hugh Grant chick flick while wearing comfy pajamas.....when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I knew these things before I turned back around to get a closer look: It's large, it's crawling across my wall, and there is no one else around to rescue me from the unwelcomed house guest. I turned back to see the grossest, largest, and (way too many legs), creature. I was still unsure what the hell this thing was, but I knew it needed to die. I quickly accessed the situation and realized I needed a shoe and considered pulling a chair to the scene to get eye level with It. Against my better judgment, I skipped the chair for fear too much movement would have put him on the move. And he had more legs.
I took my old sneaker, gave a little jump, and nailed the fucker. I looked around to make sure it had taken his last steps and it only took me a second to realize it manged to have the last word. Although dead, he had landed.... On. My. Arm.
You can imagine what happened next. I began screaming and flung it off me and then went to run my wrist under water. I went back and recovered his carcass and put it in a plastic bag. You know, incase I died in the night from the toxins that were on my arm, they could identify why. Yes, I'm slightly neurotic.
I went to my friend google and searched for "large bugs lots of legs tentacles". After a few searches, I found a match: a house centipede. So gross. In case you can't appreciate my terror, here's an image from the Internet:
After that trauma, I retreated to my patio for a cigarette and walked out to see 3 cop cars in the parking lot.
I'm not sure what chaos was taking place in my ghetto, but as I stood there, I thought of the reasons I don't like living alone. I decided against sitting outside, took a deep breath, and went to bed.
But not until I finished my pint of ice cream. And leaving the dirty spoon in the sink.
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