In our family, we all have our roles. One of Terry's (by HIS choice) is cutting the grass.
I'VE decided that "bugs" are also his domain. When a large black centipede scooted across the floor early one morning, I stopped. So did he!
I hurried to get an empty plastic yogurt container, hoping he wouldn't disappear while I was gone.. He was still there, so I dropped the container over him. I then added a note to warn Terry about what was underneath.
I wondered if the centipede would still be under the empty yogurt container when Terry got up. (It was!)
There were two interesting reactions to the above scenario:
When I sent my daughter the above picture, she was shocked (perhaps even disgusted) that I wasn't dealing with the problem myself. (Are women braver these days?!)
Terry, on the other hand, was happy to oblige - BUT he was surprised that, having had the bug in captivity for over an hour, I hadn't yet given him a name!
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