It was about 3 inches long. I'm sure you can well imagine the disturbance that commenced. I screamed and ran down the hall yelling to my husband to Get up, get up, there's a poisonous creature in the kitchen! Hurry up before it gets away! He staggered down the hallway in a haze of confusion and alarm, trying to figure out what I was going on about.
Somehow the whole house didn't get woke up. He took one look and said, That's just a centipede. It's not even poisonous. I'm still hollering Hurry up and get it outside! Kill it! He slid it onto the flyswatter, walked outside and dropped it in the grass.
Now I'm watching everywhere for the creepy crawly thing to show up inside the house again. Why couldn't he have just killed it? There'll be no rest for me.
