The Visitor

The famous shower scene from Psycho has survived multiple decades. It's been redone countless times. It makes perfect sense. It's because there's almost no other place or time when one feels more vulnerable.

My showers tend to be pretty utilitarian, usually because I'm running late. Unfortunately, it’s a constant theme in my life. I do my best to multitask to minimize this less than desirable trait. For instance, while showering I usually run through random checklists in my head for the day. It helps keep me on track. At least in theory.

And this day, being no different than any other, was filled with rushing and thinking and planning. The usual. So as lists streamed through my mind and warm water rinsed off the suds, I happened to glance over to the other end of my shower. It's not a huge shower, so "the other end" was within an arm's reach. or less. From behind the curtain, scampering into full view was a common house centipede. It was quite large and possessed more legs than any being should probably possess. Incredibly, it can maneuver each little one with perfect precision as it glides around at an unnatural speed.

The particular creature entered by crawling around my stark white shower curtain, shoulder height so it was almost face to face with me. Each little leg was eerily highlighted by the plain white background it was standing on. It stopped abruptly upon seeing me. I supposed it did not expect to run across a human. I also stopped abruptly upon seeing it, not expecting a visitor of any sort to join me unannounced.

Centipedes are beneficial. They eat other bugs. They're the good guys. However, this was the last thing on my mind at this point in time. I was frozen. Wishing it away, back down to the crevasses of my basement, where we will surely never cross paths, didn’t seem to be working. It felt as though we were staring each other down. Smashing it was not a possibility. It had the upper hand on the entire situation. It was on a shower curtain, which is an unsmashable surface. And I was equipped with only a loofah.

My resolution was unconventional. Centipedes are not known for understanding English, but it was all I had. I spoke to it, offering it a deal.

"Listen, if you don't move, I will not kill you. I'll leave you in peace."

And, it did not move. Maybe it did understand English. My eyes never left it. I finished rinsing off the soap — since I was under the water anyways— and then quietly snuck out of my end of the curtain. I then abandoned my house and went to work, hoping it had gone on its merry legged way. And as the day took over, the incident was forgotten.

My husband was home when I returned, and he mentioned he needed to shower before he rushed out for the night. It was then I remembered.... my "friend" and told him the story. I also assured him that it was hours and hours ago and the centipede had assuredly moved on by now. But be prepared just in case.

From the commotion I heard through the closed door and my husband appearing within a millisecond outside of the bathroom door wrapped in a towel I knew my "friend" had waited there patiently all day. And this is where he met his demise. The centipede, not my husband… just for clarity’s sake.

It's multilegged body had leapt off of the shower curtain at my husband and scampered behind the sink. After my husband's initial retreat, he regrouped now arming himself with the equipment to solve the problem. (his shoe) And he solved the problem.

So, it is here that the story ends. For the insect and the blog post.

-Good day, Kind Friends