Need advice for staying awake for the next 30 days

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

There’s a lot of snow in da UP this time of the year. After 5 years there, we made the decision to pack everything up and head to sunny New Mexico for a few months. As we both work remotely via the Interwebs, it’s no big deal to take off, providing we have a desk and a good Internet connection.

Things have been going great. No snow, lots of sun. About the only drawback is that a few weeks ago, I got up to make coffee, and I found a house centipede in the sink. I’m not one to be easily frightened by bugs, but this think reared up, hissed at me, and started talking to me in that backwards demon speak. It made no bones about the fact that it was ready to kick my ass, and Mr. Athena’s ass, and it was definitely not afraid of the pugs.

I hustled my butt into the bedroom, woke up Mr. Athena, and he told that centipede who was boss. Unfortunately, it didn’t work; a few weeks later, another centipede in the sink. Once again, Mr. Athena prevailed.

Fast forward another week or two; Mr. Athena is up late one night, and as he’s going to bed, he stops by the kitchen for a drink of water. Another foot long house centipede is in the sink. He battles bravely, and prevails. He decided to take a quick look around the house before bed, and finds another one on the wall in my office. It quickly succumbs to his paper-towel based offense. He comes into the bedroom, turns on the lights, and proceeds to take all the blankets off the bed and make sure there’s no bugs in the bed.

<whew>

All is fine for a few weeks. Our assailants appear to be broken.

Until tonight. We return home after dinner at about 9:30. Mr. Athena decided to wash the sheets earlier in the day, and they’re in the dryer. I say “No problem, we’ve got a spare set in the chest at the foot of the bed.” I’ve got a few clothes on the top of the chest. I throw them on the naked bed in order to open the chest.

A centipede scurries out, looks at me, shouts some blasphemy, and scurries across my side of the bed, down to the crack between the mattress and the box spring, and crawls into it.

I screech. Mr. Athena screeches. We throw the mattress off the box spring, and there is no centipede. It is GONE.

We search under the bed, behind the bed, under the mattress pad, everywhere. It is nowhere.

WTF?!? What am I supposed to do? It was on MY SIDE OF THE BED. It’s now waiting there for me to crawl in and try to sleep. I will outsmart it. I am not sleeping until we’re back in the nice, frozen North, where no centipedes live. How the hell do you people in the south deal with such things? And can anyone tell me how to stay awake for the next 30 days?

2

Red Bull.
Lots and lots of Red Bull.
Buy it by the case, it is a better deal.

3

Just knowing one of those was in my bed would be enough to keep me up that long shudder.

Seriously, I can stand most bugs, even potato bugs, but centipedes? No way.

4

Might I suggest calling in a professional exterminator and/or looking for where the little bastids are getting in and plugging the holes?

5

Just wait until the scorpions start coming out! :wink:

If you and Mr. Athena are within an hour of Santa Fe or Albuquerque, let me know and I’ll take you guys out to dinner.

6

You know, that Wikipedia link says that “In Japan, these creatures are referred to as gejigeji and enjoy a level of popularity. They can often be seen for sale in pet stores.”

A. I’m not surprised.
B. Do you know any ten-year-old boys from Japan?

7

They don’t. It’s just you.

Clearly you’re being targeted. Your house was built on the site of an old Indian graveyard to begin with. And the “Old Ways are best” clan of the guy who rented it to you disagree with his decision to truckle to the tourist trade, and they have the power to call up restless spirits in the shape of giant centipedes any time gringos from the egregious North (and Yoopers are about as egregiously northerly as it gets) move in.

You don’t need an exterminator.
You need an exorcist.
And Wesley Snipes.

8

Google Ads:

Weapons Permit Course
In a gunfight those who train, win.
Dont bet your life on anything else

It’s a sign.

9

Well, I did sleep last night. But only because we got the bugger.

Before going to bed, I asked Mr. Athena, my protector and all-around-nasty-thing-killer, to look through the bed and assure me it was centipede free. He dutifully looked through all the sheets, blankets, and pillows, and assured me it was clean. Then he says “Do you think we should look under the mattress?”

I said “Heck yeah!” since that’s where the bugger retreated to initially.

So he pulls up the bottom half of the mattress, we look, it’s fine. Then he pulls up the top half, and through the corner of my eye, I see something squiggle away towards the head of the bed. We did what anyone would do : we screamed and dropped the mattress. Then we panicked.

(Note: although Mr. Athena is very brave about hunting down and destroying bad bugs, overall I think he gets more weirded out than I do over them. I don’t like having to kill them and I don’t want them on me, but once they’re dead I’m fine. He, on the other hand, tends to have nightmares about them Coming To Get Him regardless of if he kills them or not)

So we panic for a few minute, then we have to decide what to do, because the hell if either of us are sleeping with that thing lurking somewhere in the mattress. I’m not strong enough to hold up the mattress, so he assigns me bug killing duty. I’ve got a shoe in hand, and he quickly hoists the mattress. We’re both jumpy as hell at this point, waiting for this thing to lunge out and eat us.

No centipede.

WTF?

We gingerly pull the sheet off the mattress and inspect it. Nothing. We do the same with the mattress pad, expecting something biting us at any second. Not a centipede in sight. Finally, Mr. Athena hoists the mattress completely off the bed, and we look at the box spring. Nothing.

Finally, I peer at the headboard, then down at the edge of the box spring. Something moves. I jump and scream. Mr. Athena pushes me out of the way, grabs a book, and slaps the end of the box spring and flips the book up. Up flies Mr. Now-Dead Centipede.

Fookin’ thing. It’s gone now, but I’m sure it’s many-legged brothers live in the walls, waiting to come out and avenge it’s death. This “south” thing is fun, with the lack of snow and sunlight and all, but if this is what I had to put up with every spring I’d gladly take the snow & cold.

And don’t even get me started on scorpions. When do those come out? And do they get in the house?!? :eek:

10

I was actually also going to ask about that, since I’ll be hitting the state for a week myself, starting tomorrow. Of course, between family and friends, I’m pretty booked, but I bet we could figure somethin’ out. I sure like to meet fellow Dopers.

Also, Athena, ignore the comment on scorpions. I grew up in New Mexico and we got lizards and black widows and centipedes and crickets, but no scorpions. Oh, and house centipedes, of course.

Lots of fucking crickets.

11

Yeah, but unlike those centipeds, the scorpions won’t mess with your bed. They prefer your shoes.

12

I’m not really squeamish around bugs. I don’t like them, but most of the time they don’t freak me out. (Except spiders. Great Og, do most spiders freak me out. Except, oddly, tarantulas. They’re fuzzy and lethargic, and look more like pets.) However, house centipedes look evil. So damn many legs and antennae and feelers and whatnot – it’s like watching Wilford Brimley’s mustache scurry around, only far more sinister. I hate 'em. Hate ‘em! And they molt, growing more legs every time they do! Ewww. I know they don’t do anything – actually, they’re rather beneficial in that they eat other, smaller bugs – but they’re so freakin’ hideous that any benefit derived from their existence is far outweighed by the creepiness of their existence. I mean, why can’t beneficial bugs look like cats or bunnies or something so you want to keep them around, and maybe even greet them when they cross your path?

13

I’m with you.

The odd thing is that I have no problems with spiders. Spiders are fine. I once had a pet spider, living in the corner of my kitchen, who I talked to and had a great relationship with.

I keep trying to tell myself that these centipedes are simply the southern cousin of spiders. They hang out in the house, eating other bugs. But I just can’t get over their hideous appearance. Nothing in the world needs 15 pairs of legs. Plus that backwards devil speak really freaks me out.

14

I suggest methamphetamine for staying awake.

Or effing moving.

There is NO WAY IN HELL I would stay in a house with bugs like that. I’d simply have a heart attack and be carted out on a stretcher.

15

My new house has those things, the biggest I’ve seen was like 3 inches long. They’re creepy little fucks. They lose a lot of legs when you kill them. They eat other bugs so if they’re alive they must be eating something.

16

Centipedes are the devil.

Not spawn of the devil.

They are the actual fingers of Satan himself.

There’s a species that eats frickin’ bats: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UROVfmY3NTA

17

Remember: scorpions fluoresce if you hit them with ultraviolet light. That’s how you can find them in the dark.

UV. Good for finding cat pee, semen, and now scorpions.

18

This is why I often entertain the notion of getting a hammock to sleep in. Not only are they nice and swingy, but it’s really easy to make damn sure there aren’t any nasty beasties lying in wait.

19

Holy sqirming multi-legged screaming weeping fuck that’s just horrid. Thanks!

20

Little-known fact: house centipedes hate fire. All you need to do is burn the house down, and Presto! No more centipedes!