(Not for those who are phobic about creepy-crawly things. You’ve been warned.)

The cat is not helping with insomnia recovery. Last night I dealt with his song and dance routines from 3:45 to 5, including (small) crashing noises when he broke into the cupboard and knocked his bag of treats to the floor, a serenade from the bottom of the stairs, and repetitive picking sounds as he tried to destroy my mattress JUST a little bit. After pleading, and going downstairs to shut the cupboard, I hid and, eventually, after an episode of In Our Time (too stupid/tired to absorb most of the info, sadly) fell back asleep. The cat did too, then didn’t bug me again until at fifteen minutes ago when I was in the kitchen getting a giant glass of water.

He gets zooey every time the seasons changes, so hopefully this behaviour won’t last. I tell him that I’m going to throw him out a window rarely often, but I don’t want to have to carry out the threat.

(Also, this means I slept in until 8:30 on a chiropractor day, so couldn’t fit a very, very long overdue run in.)

I was at work yesterday when my younger brother popped online to tell me that there were maggots in our rolled oats tin. I told him that was impossible, that maggots don’t eat oats, and besides, I had oatmeal twice this week and saw nothing. I was careful too, after weevils were spotted in our (crappily sealed) rice jar last week.

(Yay extra protein, maybe?)

So, yeah, weevil infestation. Time to burn the kitchen down.

Speaking of squirming, I escorted a giant house centipede outside last night. I actually don’t mind centipedes, and, like spiders, they are insectivores, so I wanted it nearby but just, like, not near my food (that stuff is for the weevils).

Tried to free it and it sped along my arm and crawled onto my back. I had to be rescued. Of course, it’s probably already back in the house by now, so it was all for naught, but at least I tried. A little.

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