I'm about to shatter any illusions that you, my Dear Reader, may have had about me being a pristine housekeeper (yeah, right) with these two stories, so bear with me. By the way, if you don't handle stories about insects well, you might want to skip this post, because I had two (TWO!!!) ridiculously disgusting experiences today that I figured I might as well publish on the Internet so that everyone can know how bad I am at keeping up with my household duties.
Don't say you haven't been warned (but seriously).
The first story actually starts a couple of days ago--we had the missionaries coming over for dinner (of course I forgot until roughly 15 minutes beforehand and ended up having to run to Little Caesar's, because I'm awesome like that). As I scurried around, trying to get my kitchen to stop looking like a nuclear testing site, I noticed that the compost bucket was relatively full and needed to be taken out.
"Oh," I thought, "I don't have time to run it out to the compost bin right now--I'll just put the lid on (it's one that seals so that the smell of our compost doesn't waft over the entire house) and take it out after the missionaries leave."
Of course, with me being me and a thousand other things going on, I forgot to take the compost out later, and with us being gone most of the day on Sunday, I didn't take it out yesterday, either. No big deal, right? Please tell me I'm not the only person to ever put off taking out the trash or, in this case, the compost, for a couple of days.
This morning, I took a closer look at the compost bucket, remembering that I had needed to take it out for two days now, and I realized that something appeared to be moving on the inside of the lid. Thinking my eyes must be playing tricks on me, I opened the lid, only to realize (this is SUPER gross, one more warning) that the inside of the lid was covered in MAGGOTS!!!
WHAT THE FREAKING HECK?!?!?!
Of course I shrieked--as I opened the lid, some of them fell onto the counter, which freaked me out even more, and I slammed the lid back on, ran it outside while holding the handle of the bucket between my two dainty little fingers (gagging the entire time) and dumped it out in the compost bin before spraying it out with the hose and leaving it outside until I have the nerve to go get it and bring it back inside to bleach the heck out of it.
UGH. UGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH.
I don't believe there are any words in the English language to appropriately describe just how DISGUSTING that was.
I came back in only (of course) to find out that Jack and Clark had taken this fine opportunity to run straight out the front door into the road...I hollered after them to come back inside, and when they didn't listen (why would they do that, now?), I chased after them and hauled them back inside, after which I bleached every single surface of my kitchen possible, then threw away the rag(s) I used.
My hands are red and raw now, but I'm finally able to glance at my counter again without shuddering. Most of the time.
Fast forward to tonight. The kids have just gone to bed, and I'm running out to the garage to get something.
Of course, I'm barefoot, and as I switch on the garage light and run onto the step, I glance down and see a centipede.
A HUGE centipede. And of course it's only inches from my bare foot.
I scream (naturally--who wouldn't?) and run inside to grab something--ANYTHING--to kill the monster I have just discovered living in my garage.
Steve asks me concernedly what the matter is, and as tempted as I am to interrupt his oh-so-vital studying time in order to come play my knight in shining armor, feminism gets the better of me, and I decide to do the dirty deed myself (or I just have guilt taking him away from his studying when I know he has 8 chapters to read in the next two days, but whatever--I'll use this opportunity to look strong and independent).
I grab a shoe (Steve's blue croc, to be exact) and head back to the garage, only to shriek again.
The centipede is MISSING.
Oh, no. That is NOT going to fly with me.
As I stand there, debating about what to do now that I know that there is an 8-foot creature living in my garage where I CAN'T SEE IT, a tender mercy happens: the centipede comes running out from under our car.
I shriek again (at this point, in case you're wondering, I have definitely woken up two of the three children), and begin walloping the dang thing with the shoe.
Smack!
It begins squirming and running towards me.
"Oh, no, you don't!"
Smack!
Now it's slightly injured, but still running TOWARDS me.
"Gah!"
Smack!
Now, I'll skip the rest of the skin-crawling details for you all, but know that it took no fewer than 7 firm wallops with Steve's croc to kill that thing. SEVEN.
Once again, UGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG.
And yes, its massacred body is still lying in the garage, because after mustering up the guts and the nerve to do that much, there was NO WAY I was going to try to PICK IT UP and throw it away.
Heck to the no.
Maybe it's time to muster out my own personal knight in shining armor to take care of the rest of the deed, after all.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go shower. Perhaps in bleach.
Don't say you haven't been warned (but seriously).
The first story actually starts a couple of days ago--we had the missionaries coming over for dinner (of course I forgot until roughly 15 minutes beforehand and ended up having to run to Little Caesar's, because I'm awesome like that). As I scurried around, trying to get my kitchen to stop looking like a nuclear testing site, I noticed that the compost bucket was relatively full and needed to be taken out.
"Oh," I thought, "I don't have time to run it out to the compost bin right now--I'll just put the lid on (it's one that seals so that the smell of our compost doesn't waft over the entire house) and take it out after the missionaries leave."
Of course, with me being me and a thousand other things going on, I forgot to take the compost out later, and with us being gone most of the day on Sunday, I didn't take it out yesterday, either. No big deal, right? Please tell me I'm not the only person to ever put off taking out the trash or, in this case, the compost, for a couple of days.
This morning, I took a closer look at the compost bucket, remembering that I had needed to take it out for two days now, and I realized that something appeared to be moving on the inside of the lid. Thinking my eyes must be playing tricks on me, I opened the lid, only to realize (this is SUPER gross, one more warning) that the inside of the lid was covered in MAGGOTS!!!
WHAT THE FREAKING HECK?!?!?!
Of course I shrieked--as I opened the lid, some of them fell onto the counter, which freaked me out even more, and I slammed the lid back on, ran it outside while holding the handle of the bucket between my two dainty little fingers (gagging the entire time) and dumped it out in the compost bin before spraying it out with the hose and leaving it outside until I have the nerve to go get it and bring it back inside to bleach the heck out of it.
UGH. UGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGH.
I don't believe there are any words in the English language to appropriately describe just how DISGUSTING that was.
I came back in only (of course) to find out that Jack and Clark had taken this fine opportunity to run straight out the front door into the road...I hollered after them to come back inside, and when they didn't listen (why would they do that, now?), I chased after them and hauled them back inside, after which I bleached every single surface of my kitchen possible, then threw away the rag(s) I used.
My hands are red and raw now, but I'm finally able to glance at my counter again without shuddering. Most of the time.
Fast forward to tonight. The kids have just gone to bed, and I'm running out to the garage to get something.
Of course, I'm barefoot, and as I switch on the garage light and run onto the step, I glance down and see a centipede.
A HUGE centipede. And of course it's only inches from my bare foot.
I scream (naturally--who wouldn't?) and run inside to grab something--ANYTHING--to kill the monster I have just discovered living in my garage.
Steve asks me concernedly what the matter is, and as tempted as I am to interrupt his oh-so-vital studying time in order to come play my knight in shining armor, feminism gets the better of me, and I decide to do the dirty deed myself (or I just have guilt taking him away from his studying when I know he has 8 chapters to read in the next two days, but whatever--I'll use this opportunity to look strong and independent).
I grab a shoe (Steve's blue croc, to be exact) and head back to the garage, only to shriek again.
The centipede is MISSING.
Oh, no. That is NOT going to fly with me.
As I stand there, debating about what to do now that I know that there is an 8-foot creature living in my garage where I CAN'T SEE IT, a tender mercy happens: the centipede comes running out from under our car.
I shriek again (at this point, in case you're wondering, I have definitely woken up two of the three children), and begin walloping the dang thing with the shoe.
Smack!
It begins squirming and running towards me.
"Oh, no, you don't!"
Smack!
Now it's slightly injured, but still running TOWARDS me.
"Gah!"
Smack!
Now, I'll skip the rest of the skin-crawling details for you all, but know that it took no fewer than 7 firm wallops with Steve's croc to kill that thing. SEVEN.
Once again, UGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG.
And yes, its massacred body is still lying in the garage, because after mustering up the guts and the nerve to do that much, there was NO WAY I was going to try to PICK IT UP and throw it away.
Heck to the no.
Maybe it's time to muster out my own personal knight in shining armor to take care of the rest of the deed, after all.
Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go shower. Perhaps in bleach.
Comments
I know it will help you feel better to know that once when I was living in Snowflake...I found maggots in my kitchen window seal. GRossEst thing EVER!!!
And our house on Player Dr. had a major centipede problem. I had never seen one in Snowflake (or anywhere else besides the dead one taped inside Brandon's Spanish BOM that he found in Mexico). You were kind to the one in your garage. I took a shovel to the ones I found and chopped those nasty looking suckers up! (ugh). One morning after finishing breakfast, I stood up, put my bowl in the sink, got the broom out to sweep the kids mess up from under the table and realized I had just eaten breakfast, barefoot, with my little centipede friend under my chair. So, naturally, I swept him into the dust pan, took him outside and introduced him to my shovel.
Jennifer, why did Brandon have a centipede in his BoM. I sure didn't want to bring any cockroaches home from Costa Rica, and believe me I saw some big, nasty ones there.
And Vicki I had those "wind scorpions" or "sun spider" things in our Player Dr. house too! Those things are freaky! There was actually one in my bed, UNDER my covers!!! I have the phone number for Neff Exterminating on speed dial!
Seriously....I remember. :)
And Vicki and Jennifer, your stories help me feel a little better about my nasty experiences!