Bugs

I live on the ground floor of a motel in Highland, NY. One room and a bathroom ... well, a shower stall and a toilet.

Last week, I looked up from the TV one afternoon and beheld on the wall a centipede. In a rush I crushed it with one of my notebooks. The body flew off, probably into one of my shoes. I joke ...

Yesterday, while at this very computer, I beheld out the corner of my eye (or as Clyde Frazier deems it, my "peripherial vision") something scurrying from my shoes (on my left) away from me to my foyer, where my sweaters are. Hello, next chilly night.

And then today, I got up and went to the room that holds the toilet. In my shower stall, stumbling on the far wall, was a centipede. In the tile-lined shower stall. How the eff did that thing get in there? I turned on the hot water and pointed the steaming hot shower nozzle at the critter; it fought a good fight, such that I should have acknowledged its strength and simply captured it and set it free outdoors to be eaten by feral cats, but my blood lust knows no bounds when it comes to protecting my face while asleep. The hot stream finally subdid it, I gathered its remains, and threw bleach all over the shower stall.