Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
There are a few things I find totally disgusting and horrible. One of them is the centipede.
My longsuffering husband just doesn’t get it. “Linda, it’s just a tiny little bug. It’s a lot more afraid of you than you are of it.”
Yeah. Blahblahblah. I don’t care how tiny and insignificant it is, it needs to be killed. By him. Without my participation.
For several years now, he’s been spraying all around the outside of the house with some chemical or the other that keeps spiders and centipedes out of the house. I love that chemical. It works quite well. However, it needs to be done about every three months.
What I would like to know is why I am the one who sees the first centipede that dares to sneak into my house on his ugly little legs. Terry never sees them. Just doesn’t see them. There’s nothing more upsetting than to make a trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night, switch on the light, and see a centipede go racing across the floor—or just sitting somewhere, being icky.
I always kindly notify Terry that it’s time to spray again because I SAW A CENTIPEDE!
I rarely (never) use multiple exclamation points, but I was just very tempted to do so. A centipede deserves multiple exclamation points just for ugly. Yuck. I hate them. The bug, not the punctuation.
They’re hideous. Tiny in size, I suppose, but huge in ugly.