I don’t like bugs.
People who know I don’t like the snow and cold used to ask me why I didn’t move south. My answer always was I still hate bugs more than I hate snow. Things got pushed to a head, though, when my job was relocated to Atlanta. I decided to move.
I’ve been down here about three months now. I like the warmer weather. I liked wearing my spring jacket in January and February, something that never would have happened in Minnesota. I still hate the bugs.
Apparently, having pest control come out and spray every few months is mandatory. Signed up for that. I’m still dealing with bugs now and then, though. The ants in the bathroom were icky, but I’ve dealt with those in the past so they didn’t freak me out. The enormous queen ant (it had to be what it was) that I saw walking across the living room did make my hair stand on end, but I killed it. It was just an ant.
Spiders, though… ::shudder:: I hate spiders with a passion. Last week, I had one in the corner of my bedroom. I’ve learned that Clorox household cleaner with bleach is a fantastically efficient way to kill bugs. So I sprayed that damn spider, then I had a phone call, and by the time I got back to the bedroom, the spider had vanished.
But the worst was yet to come. I’ve dealt with a few centipedes in the unit. They totally creep me out, but in February I had to deal with one on the wall of the living room in the morning, and that afternoon, one was on the ceiling of the bathroom. I killed them both, but I’ve been paranoid ever since and I don’t walk into any room without doing a sweep of the walls and ceiling.
One day, there was another one on the wall. I got him.
Then came a Monday at the end of March. I checked the walls and ceiling as usual before getting in the shower. It was clear, I swear it was. I get out, wrap a towel around my hair, and grab another towel to dry off. As I’m bending over, something falls past my head. I felt how close it was. I look down and something is scurrying. Luckily, I had the Clorox handy. I grabbed it and sprayed.
It kept moving.
I sprayed again and again and again.
It finally stopped. I put my glasses on and checked it out. Yes, a damn centipede had fallen from the ceiling and nearly landed on my head!
I might need therapy.