I'm really scared of bugs. Well, not exactly scared, but really grossed out by them. Especially centipedes. Which takes me to my story. I was in my bathroom yesterday, when I saw a giant centipede on the floor. It was at least 2 inches long (not counting antennae). The old me would have completely freaked out and been paralyzed with fear, and then called A to come kill it. The new me--the one who believes in mind over matter and who seems to think she can run a half marathon--decided that I would take charge and kill it myself (plus A wasn't home, so I didn't really have much choice in the matter). First I took a feeble swat at it with a balled-up tissue. Not a good idea. It started to run away and I was so scared it was going to duck into the closet, in which case I would never find it and it would live in my closet, asexually producing hundreds of baby centipedes. Yuck. Lucky for me, centipedes are not very smart and this one ran straight into a corner. So this time, I took an empty baby oil bottle and swooped straight down on it. Unfortunately, the bottom of the bottle was concave in the middle, so the edges of the bottle knocked off a few legs and then that little bugger ran away. Did you know that centipede legs still flail about even if they're not attached to the body? I struck a few more times, knocked a few more legs off (and watched those legs wiggle in place) and then finally got the whole damned thing. I even picked it up with a tissue and disposed of it. This is big for me--once, I trapped a spider under a cup but was too scared to move the cup and kill it, so I left it there until someone braver than me could deal with it. So I feel like a new person.
This new me also cut my toenails (bye-bye cute pedicure) in preparation for my serious training runs.
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