Technical Difficulties

Gah. I loathe centipedes--I've made my peace with most creepy-crawlies, including spiders up to the size of a quarter, but I can't stand centipedes. But the other night, I'd have been glad to have a centipede lurking in the corner near the ceiling. My centipede story, let me tell you it. First, I noticed Mr. Centipede crawling across the floor. He was heading away from me, and Fred, the household's Junior Cat, was watching him attentively, so I wasn't too worried, and decided to let her take care of the situation rather than stomp on him. When she pounced, however, he made a loop around the coffee table and headed straight for me. At this point, I became anxious. Then she made another ineffective pounce, and sent him scurrying (I thought) under the couch that I happened to be sitting on. Then I looked down and saw that he had in fact scurried up the side of the couch and was perching on my shirt. My actual shirt that I was wearing at the time. I screamed like a girl and flung off the shirt in question (the only piece of good luck in the whole mess is that it was a button-down that was unbuttoned at the time--had it been a pullover, I think I'd have just died on the spot). I am not sure where he went after that, but it took me quite some time to regain my composure, let me tell you. Ugh. I've been considering entering an official reprimand in Fred's file, which will surely affect her chances for promotion in the event a position of Senior Cat becomes available.