centipede in the house

We live in the woods, where during this transitional season when you open the sliding glass doors to let in the lovely fresh air, uninvited guests sometimes slip around the loosely fitting screened door.

Like this centipede I found on the floor of our bedroom closet yesterday.

Small, but spooky.

I picked him up with a tissue and put him in a jar. If a centipede can be visibly annoyed, this one was. He didn’t cower or curl into a ball like a millipede. No way. More like he wanted to jump out of that jar and sink those pincers into my carotid artery. Seriously weird how a small critter like that unnerved me. Of course, he was in the bedroom closet. But generally speaking, I’m very tolerant of bugs of all types and positively admire spiders, even though I’ve been bitten by several, the worst of which was a nasty bite between my toes an hour before a dinner party at our house, causing an unattractive foot drag the entire evening.
Here’s the centipede in all his stretched-out glory. I anthropomorphically imagine he was pausing a moment to realize he wasn’t dead after all. Ever have one of those days?

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