Summer has been terrible. It isn't only the heat/humidity that I can't handle—it's the wildlife.

A total of three centipedes have drowned themselves in my cats' water dish. This did not appear to affect the quality of water as far as the cats were concerned. It may have added flavor and vitamins. Once, there were two centipedes in the water dish. It was likely the aftermath of one centipede forgetting it couldn't swim as it dove to save another centipede from drowning.

I encountered a centipede in the kitchen sink that was so large, I stood there for a moment to ponder how I was going to kill it. The centipede looked positively tropical in size. The body was almost as long as my pinkie and nearly half as wide. I can't squash it; the guts will fly everywhere and then I'll need to do extensive crime-scene clean-up. I didn't want to touch it, so I decided to scald it to death.

I don't even want to get into the centipede that touched my bare thigh while I was lying on my bed or the centipede that scurried over my bare foot. I am usually not squeamish, but there's something about the centipede. I can't pinpoint exactly what is so frightening. I think millipedes are pretty cute, so it can't really be the number of legs on a centipede that are scaring me.