I’m doing a really, super good job of not freaking the hell out even though at least 3 hatchling centipedes have come out of our bathroom faucet in the last 2 days. I dismissed the first one as a random fluke–at H’s behest. That’s after screeching like a little girl, obviously.

I am most displeased.
H promises that he is taking care of it, which I guess means purification by fire (my idea) will be a backup plan.

Maintenance around here is usually hardcore weaksauce. But this time something will be done or we will move the hell out of here despite our intense poverty. I’d rather stay at the friggin shelter than deal with venomous insects breeding in our goddamn water supply.

As a horror writer, this is the sort of thing I would never include in a story because it seems cartoonishly horrific. Now that I’m living it though…I might have to.
In the mean time, I’m going to continue my quest for calm.

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