So I wake up around seven this morning and I look across my carpet in the slightly overcast lighting, and I notice the scariest bug ever casually walking towards my clothes. It is a centipede, and these buggers are big, ugly and faster than most rodents. I hate them. It gives me an adrenaline rush just looking at them, so I avoid close contact.
But this time, it crossed the line–my clothes. I sit in my bed strategizing how to best deal with this situation. The centipede is in my clothes on the floor. I look to my Rainbow flip flops as a possible offensive weapon. I think, if I grab my jeans and try to search for this guy I will lose the battle. Or I could just wait, and avoid my jeans for a few days… As I am thinking all this, Mr. Centipede casually walks away from my pants and towards my bed. I grab my sandal, I’ve got one shot… WHACK! Dead. And I leave the remains as a message to its brothers.
I strongly dislike killing things. Even ugly, scary, boundary crossing bugs. But when push comes to shove, you gotta do what you gotta do. It is me or the bug. Spend a couple nights in rural Nicaragua, and there are bigger more worthy things to be afraid of than large insects, crustaceans, and arachnids. I find I am more afraid of bugs stateside than when I am traveling, cause when I am stateside, bugs are the scariest and most unusual thing I have to deal with. So, don’t be afraid, just do what you need to do. Then send a little prayer up to the bug gods to relieve guilt.