Scott and M are in NYC for a few days over March break. While I cannot say that I'm in any way put out by this - work is crazy and I am exceedingly happy for the peace and quiet (aka not arguing with a 16 year old incessantly) - I did have a totally stressful experience about an hour ago. It involved yoga. And a centipede.
I cannot even type that word without feeling sick.
There I was, blithely considering what online class would suit my rather scattered post-work mood, and this horrifying, hairy bug just sidled up beside me. It wasn't even freaked out. Alas, when I observed it, not an inch away from me, I did freak out - and proceeded to spill the contents of my (mercifully, almost gone) Immune Booster (juice) shot all over my keyboard. Somehow the spa lifestyle has eluded me today, despite the many trappings.
As fast as I jumped, it ran out the sewga room door. And then I was trapped.
BTW, this isn't the first time this has happened. It is, however, the first time it's happened when my people are in a foreign country. You can imagine my dismay.
At any rate, I spent a few minutes considering my options. Staying in the yoga room for another 48 hours wasn't one of them. If nothing else I had soup on the stove. So I grabbed a shoe, shored myself up and peered behind the door. The fucker was gone.
Honestly, I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. The idea of killing it was almost as sickening as the bug itself. I mean, to kill it, I'd have to get within a foot of it. Or a shoe, anyway. But not finding it meant I couldn't be rid of it. Everything started feeling like a bug was crawling on me. And, of course, I didn't know how I'd ever enter the sewga room again (despite the fact that the bug disappeared outside the room).
But then I did something unheard of. Truly. I decided to listen to the voices in my head - those of everyone who's ever tried to talk me off a ledge when I see a bug, those which told me that it was truly gone - as gone as a bug can be i.e. into the walls - and that I'm 2000 times its size and that it's more scared of me than I can ever be of it. And then I opted to take back the room.
God help me, I did yoga. Sure, I wore my glasses (which made me feel incredibly nauseous by the end because I spent the entire time compulsively staring at the door). And I didn't do savasana in the sewga room. I mean, I'm not insane. Yes, I ran out the door, at the end, stealthily looking behind me, prepared for the worst. And I actually feel more terrible now than before I started.
But dammit, I'm not stuck in a room for the next 2 days. That's a metaphor for you. Or something.