had exactly one day to locate a place of residence in the Land of the Thousand Hills.

fter touring a dozen or so places, she concluded that there were three fundamental features common to all rental property in the Land:

• 1960s electric baseboard heaters, heavily dented and partially rusted. Often these were the only source of heat in this frigid little berg.
• The ugliest, nastiest, ickiest bleached blond-colored fake wood paneling you've ever seen, of the same approximate vintage as the baseboard heaters
• The ceilings are all sprayed with some kind of textured stuff with big chunks of glitter in it.

here were a few less universal characteristics of rentals in the Land, too.  One common feature was the home-made shower stall.  Usually these were located in what used to be closets, and were generally lined with old masonite panels or hand-cut plastic of some kind.  The seams consisted of seventy-two layers of caulk, and these models of low-rent ingenuity typically served as home to thriving, well-established communities of mildew.

nd then there was the carpeting. Scheherazade is not a big fan of carpet. She prefers wood and tile.  But some of the carpeting she saw in Kirksville was incredible -- simply unbelievable. Of course, there was the ever-popular avocado green or harvest gold 30-year-old super-filthy all-smashed-down shag carpeting. But one apartment which Scheherazade toured had the most amazing dark turquoise and avocado carpeting, with a pattern like big (and we're talkin' BIG, like 20" in diameter) Mike Douglas Show-type flowers.

h, the ambiance of life in the Land! The fake wood paneling, weary from its long decades upon the walls of the Land, bowed uncomfortably outward from its 2x4 moorings, seeking the rest and release of the Big Paneling Barn in the Sky. The electric heat caused carpet fibers to float on convection currents up to the textured ceiling, where they stuck and accumulated dirt for thirty years. Cleaning or dusting them was a futile effort; the rough surface instantly shredded any item used for that purpose.  Not only that, but if one was not wearing safety goggles, one ran the risk of dislodging a monster flake of glitter, which, if it fell into someone's eye, could easily shred one's cornea.

cheherazade eventually found an almost acceptable domicile in which to spend her exile.  It was carpeted, but it was newer carpeting.  It had old electric baseboard heaters and a textured glitter ceiling, but so did every place else in the Land. Its chiefest virtue was the fact that it possessed a manufactured shower. Scheherazade signed the lease.

nbeknowst to her at the time, she had just signed an agreement to share a hovel with a species hitherto unknown to Scheherazade.

he first one she saw was from the corner of her eye as she sat in the kitchen reading. Scheherazade saw something scurrying across the kitchen carpet (yes, even the kitchen was carpeted).  Thinking it was a cockroach, she swung around with her book and SMASHED the little bugger. It was hard to see at first glance on the carpet -- but even though she had broken it into two parts, both ends were still moving -- !! Horrified, she realized it wasn't a roach. She looked more closely, and EEEWWWWWWWWW!!!!!! What on earth was THAT??!? Goodness!! It gave her the willies, bigtime. She had never seen anything like it inside a house before.

everal weeks later, her alarm went off one morning. Scheherazade heard the programmable coffee maker still brewing, and so decided to stay in bed a few more minutes until it was finished. Turning on a dim bedside lamp and propping herself up in order to stay awake, she listened to the sound which promised fresh coffee soon. As she sat there, though, something on the ceiling caught her eye. At first she thought it was the light catching one of those big chunks of glitter -- but then, it MOVED. She squinted, focused, and ... and ... OMIGOD, it was a CENTIPEDE!!

cheherazade watching in horror as it scurried across the ceiling . . . and then . . . it DROPPED, landing just inches from her bed. She grabbed a big book (there is ALWAYS a big book within reach when you are a graduate student) and leapt after it, still shuddering inwardly with a deep revulsion. Alas, that nasty little creature was too fast! It scuttled across the room and in an instant it was gone.

gh!  Ugh!  Ugh!!!

s time passed, she learned that they most often appeared on the kitchen and bathroom ceilings, or in the kitchen sink, or in the shower. She developed the habit of never entering a room without first turning on the light from outside and peering in to check for overhead 'pedes.

hey were very hard to kill. And no, gentle reader, Scheherazade did not subscribe to the "catch and release" philosophy, or even to a "live and let live" policy. No, all she wanted was to kill, kill them ALL!! Search and destroy! Annihilate them all! The desire for centipede genocide raged in her psyche. Pounding them with large books never worked on the first try. Scheherazade had to pound them repeatedly, and then clean the goo off the book. Bug spray worked, but only after several minutes of continuous spray, during which time the rotten little critters continued to streak around the room with Scheherazade chasing after them.

he could hardly wait until the day when she could return to her beloved Little Bohemia!

h, and did Scheherazade mention that these nasty little things were poisonous? At least that's what one of her students (a biology major) said, and she was fully willing to believe him.