Breakfast Terror

Weekends are the only times Hubby and I get to have a good sit-down breakfast together.  We usually sleep in for as long as our animals will let us, and then we get up and have a nice breakfast.  This weekend, Cooter was the one to wake us up first with his loud, mournful hee hawing.  You'd think he was starving to death the way he carries on.  No rest for the wicked around our house, that's for sure.  So, up we got and after I had fed the brood, I started fixing our breakfast.

Hubby tuned into a good 70's station and while I hummed along to a Paul McCartney song, I put the bacon on to fry.  I peeled a couple potatoes, plopped some Crisco into a skillet on the stove and pulled out the cutting board to start chopping up the taters.  I finished with one potato and took the cutting board over to the stove to scrape the potato into the skillet, then walked back to the counter and OHMYGOODNESSGRACIOUS there on the counter, right where my cutting board had sat, was the biggest, ugliest, squirmiest centipede I've ever seen in my entire life!  I let out the loudest blood curdling scream you ever heard and in less than a millisecond I was clear across the other side of the house standing next to our bed and hyperventilating. 

Hubby and Tubby were standing there looking at me like I'd grown three heads and I'm sure Hubby just knew I'd cut my finger off with one of his sharp knives.  "What's wrong?!" he yelled and I was so scared that I couldn't even speak.  I spluttered out, "CENT- (heavy breathing)-I-(more heavy breathing)- PEDE! as best I could and flailed one arm toward the kitchen, clutching my chest with the other.  I just knew I was going to pass out any minute.  My arms and legs were all tingly and I couldn't catch my breath.

Hubby to the rescue!  He grabbed that three-foot long centipede by it's middle, twirled it around in the air above his head, and wrestled it to the floor while Tubby looked on from his hiding spot underneath Daddy's chair.  The centipede gnashed it's slimy fangs at Hubby and tried to stab him with it's vicious stinger.  It put up a good fight, millions of legs moving every which way, but it was no match for Super Sid!  My Hero!

After about five minutes, I had calmed down enough to finish making breakfast and surprisingly, the bacon hadn't burned and all my ten fingers were still accounted for.  I was still shaking like a leaf and jittery throughout the process, my eyes darting here and there for any relatives that might have been left behind, but I made it through.  No coffee needed for me that morning, that's for sure!