I know I�ve explained in detail the annoyance of not only having centipedes but killing them as well. They just won�t die. You chop and you chop and all three pieces keep wiggling around your feet.
In early September, Paul and I went to one of the shops to watch a movie in the evening and came back when it was dark. Paul went into the other room and asked for me to bring the Baygon (remember � the magical bug killing spray) and a cutlass. He had seen a black leg and thought it was a tarantula as we�ve had one in the house before. I come in and see Paul�s headlamp directed toward a black leg sticking out of a crack at the base of the mud wall.
It looks like a tarantula. We spray. It comes out of the crack. It�s not a tarantula. It�s a scorpion, and it dies. The cutlass cracked that exoskeleton quick and it didn�t take long for it to curl up, nothing more than a harmless mass of what once could have been quite painful.
It was only a matter of time before we saw one so I wasn�t too surprised. In fact, I was more surprised at how unaffected I was in finding a scorpion in my house. All I muttered was, �Oh, scorpion,� and that was that.
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