I asked him to wait. Told him just to stay where he was. Explained that his other options were decidedly poorer ones and ones he’d be likely to regret.

But he didn’t listen.

Even after he’d reached the relative safety of the shower rod…

With Posey there, he never stood a chance.

A centipede joined me in the shower this morning. Actually, it would probably be fairer to say that I joined him. But as I didn’t notice him until I was washing my hair, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it until the shower was over.

I kept an eye on him as he inched up the shower curtain, probably trying to escape the spray that had awakened him earlier than he’d wanted on a Wednesday morning. He wasn’t making any sudden moves, but I didn’t want him falling into my hair. I don’t mind centipedes, but there are limits, you understand. I asked him to stop, that I’d rescue him as soon as I was done.

But at one point, after he’d reached the shower rod, I turned around and he was gone. “Thank goodness,” I breathed. He crawled off somewhere to safety.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. I turned around again and there he was at the other end of the rod. “Okay,” I said. “I see you. You’re fine.”

But he didn’t trust me, or he was really keen for a morning run, because he started off again across the rod. He was impressive, all those shaggy legs undulating in unison as he navigated the curtain rings.

But apparently it doesn’t matter how many legs you have; if you step wrong with one of them, you still fall down.

And down he fell, but not into my hair or the water at the bottom of the tub.

But on the room side of the curtain, where, without my knowledge, Posey was keeping me company this morning.

With one of the other cats, he might have stood a chance. Run fast (which centipedes do) and then keep still. Della wouldn’t have followed him under anything. Jeremiah would have lost interest if he couldn’t reach him and if there was no movement for a while. But Posey doesn’t have a lot of thoughts to clutter up her brain, so she can spend a while waiting.

By the time I was done showering, he was gone. I took his corpse outside so he could have the freshly dampened ground under him once more.

Do you see why it is I have such a hard time killing household pests? Pests to me and you, but still living creatures that are just out for the same things I am — a good meal and a place to sleep. I’d hate for some huge creature to decide that I was in its way or was amusing in my attempts to flee it.

Stomach-twisting thoughts for a Wednesday morning…

That was what happened to my post last night. I was just proofreading it when the mouse stopped responding. Figuring the computer had frozen and that I’d just have to suck it up and rewrite my treatise on vacations, I pressed the restart button. The screen on the laptop went blank, as it is supposed to do. Unfortunately, it is eventually supposed to reboot and bring the start-up screen back, which it did not.

I let the machine run for a few minutes and then closed the case and went to bed.

I got up this morning, hoping the computer had thought better of its temper tantrum. Nothing doing. It screeched when I hit the restart key again.

Rudi thinks the logic board is fried.

Too bad this happened just before Christmas and just after $1000 worth of repairs to the car.

So please pardon me if things are a bit quiet around here over the next month, particularly on weekends. I’ll try to remember to post before I leave the office for the day, but some days that just may not happen.

At least it was the computer’s logic board and not mine that went, right?

As with any good Thanksgiving (and particularly a white one, like this year’s), I celebrated the year’s bounty and our good fortune by stuffing myself silly with lots of food. Now the Thanksgiving Peanuts special is on tv, so I’m back in my p.j.’s and ready to doze away the rest of the evening in front of the fire with some pie.

Thanks be for blog software and readers, family and friends, space to say things and to say nothing, and for a life worth living.

Happy Thanksgiving!

When I complain tomorrow morning aqbout how tired I am and how hard it was to get up, get doughnuts, and stay awake during the entire parade, remind me it’s because I stopped cleaning in order to write a short blog post this afternoon. Of course, that would be fine if I’d finished packing and cleaning last night or this morning, but that never seems to be the case…

Anyway, Rudi and I should be off for the marathon drive up to Connecticut in short order, so I’d best finish up here.

Happy Thanksgiving Eve everyone!

Y’know, it’s a rare feeling when you’re awakened at 7:30 on a Saturday morning, decide to stay up, and are a) still awake and b) feeling productive come 11 a.m.

I’ve sent emails, made tea, and been grocery shopping already.

True, I haven’t any cleaning. But I am rocking out to tunes and have danced around the living room. Isn’t that how houses get cleaned in all those ’80s teen movies?

And I still have six hours of daylight left. Anything is possible!

I admit it. I’m frustrated. I want things to be progressing faster, without actually my having to progress faster. I want to stop turning around and finding another thing that needs to be fixed or cleaned before I can go on to the next thing on my mental list.

Like this morning. I was multi-tasking by doing handwashing and soe-washing at the same time. But when I emerged from the shower all fresh and clean and went to let the water out of the sink, it didn’t go. It just sat there. So I pretended I was on a sinking ship (because who doesn’t feel that way some days) and bailed the sink water down the tub drain. At least the two were right next to each other and it didn’t require wandering around the house, as it would have if the kitchen sink had refused to drain. But I’m not sure why I would have been washing my sweater in the kitchen sink. Particularly since I have a garbage disposal. And a few soaking dishes. Baking pans and merino sweaters just do not mix.

So tonight before I left work, I did some research. Found out how to fix it. Dug about until I found the right tools. Used them. And then I was thwarted from it being a cathartic (if gross) experience by a very sweet guy who wanted to help (particularly since he’s the one who brushes his hair over the sink).

The good news is that the sink stopper is operational once more and my handwashing can resume once more. The bad news is that there’s just so much more to do around here. And less than three weeks until our tree-trimming party. And a frustrated me just wanting it all to be done.