Don't Come Back!

Centipede: any of a class (chilopoda) of long flattened many segmented predaceous anthropods with each segment bearing one pair of legs of which the foremost pair is modified into poison fangs. We have had many visitors at the ranch. Most have been welcomed. However, last week one showed up I hope never returns. It was late in the day, just beginning to get dark. The light from the cabin window barely lighted the bathroom floor. I needed to take out the trash. I went to the bathroom to get my shoes. They were on the floor. The front edge of the shoes was just under a chest of drawers. I did not turn on the light. As I reached for my light, beige, moccasin styled topsiders something moved very quickly in my right shoe. Yikes! Could it be a snake? It was not light enough to see exactly what it was. Quickly I switched on the antique lamp that hangs from the ceiling. Much to my dismay, slithering around in my shoe was a huge centipede. It was the size of a good Cuban cigar. Help! I could not leave to get a sledge hammer, because, if it moved I would not know where it was. Not good. I knew a fly swatter wouldn't cut it. This was a monster that I really didn't want to step on. And besides, crushing it would make a terrible mess in my shoe. My eyes were glued on this swirl of connected black disks supported by perhaps several hundred white legs and feet. It's head was ugly and white, and of course, there were the poisonouse red fangs at the rear. Think. How can I get rid of this thing forever? Very carefully I reached down and picked up the shoe holding the centipede. I made a dash for the toilet and flipped the centipede into the water in bowl. I flushed it. That boy is on a cruise to the dark continent where he belongs. We have also had the occasional tarantula, spider and exotic bug pay us a visit. To all of these unwelcome creatures we say, "Don't Come Back!" There is now steel wool plugging any hole big enough to give passage to these guys and diatomaceous earth to cut off all their little feet if they get by the steel wool. Such is life at the cabin in the Texas Hill Country. The hummimgbird has come to the blooming moon flowers outside my window several times while I have been writing. He sucks out the nectar, hesitates to look through the window at me and then moves on. The sun has been shinning most of the day. Hurrah. Such is life here at the cabin in the Texas Hill Country. The Cabin Gang