A long distance call to arms. And legs.

We live in a house that is over fifty years old now, with a partially unfinished basement that has lots of nooks and crannies, and some damp areas. I knew it when we bought it, but since it was winter I was able to put it out of my mind:

We're going to be battling bugs.

In my previous homeowner adventure I found that having a cat helps keep things in the basement, and we have two now, so I'm hopeful that they do their job. But as we found out tonight, visitors can make it up to the second floor.

I was in the living room (our bedroom is directly above) when I heard Kristen hightail it out of there and come down the stairs like her feet were bowling balls. She's actually pretty good about dealing with bugs-she's eliminated many a spider for me (I hate spiders; it's a long story, but man, do I hate them)-but apparently when she went into her closet to pick out clothes to wear tomorrow she was greeted by something with many, many legs staring back at her from a hanger.

I never saw it, but judging from her description I'm pretty sure it was a centipede. While harmless, they are freakin' ugly. I give her credit for making it down the stairs. I would have hit the floor right there, as I am one not much for surprises.

I never found the offending menace, which no doubt descended back into the darkness of the baseboards, and it's been a few hours. I haven't heard any cries for help from my sleeping wife so I assume all is well. For now, at least. I really am not looking forward to what we come upon when the humidity edges up to rain forest quality in summer.

If it gets really bad, I might give this guy a call. He seems to do very well with roaches, so I'm sure he could handle the rest. I'm not digging his dance moves though.