The Hawaiian centipede.
Literally satan in creepy/crawly form.
“Annie come here,” JD has a look on his face that tells me something gnarly is in the kitchen. “Is it a cockroach?” His eyes are fairly huge and he shakes his head. “Is it a gecko?” No. “Is it a gecko eating a bug?” No. I walk into the kitchen, look at the floor and see satan. I’m pretty sure it was satan. Dark brown in color, seven inches in length, a centimeter thick, and way too many legs for comfort.
Centipedes are poisonous, with very painful stings. My breath escapes me and very naughty words come to mind as I shriek in terror. Tears come to my eyes and I start shaking almost uncontrollably. I run out of the kitchen positive that there are now a billion centipedes all over the house and rush toward Ellie to make sure they’re not crawling all over her. They weren’t. There was just one in the house. And it was almost dead. Dead enough that JD picked it up with a piece of cardboard, took it outside, and stomped on it. Normally centipedes are very fast and super hard to kill. I’m fairly certain it got trapped in some left over boric acid on its way into our house.
I quickly became convinced that our house was not clean enough and rushed to clean toilets, sinks, and dust the blinds. Because that’s where centipedes hang out.
My insides area all wriggling just writing about this, but thought you’d like a nice paradise living update. Aloooooha.