My barracks room and the entire first floor of this building has been invaded by herds of millipedes. I have the distinct feeling of being in some cheap movie about exorcisms in which the demon’s presence is accompanied by crawly things. This leggy legion is unenhancing my calm and my clean floors
An old friend suggested I should get a dehumidifier to ward of this mass of marauding millipedes as they are fond of moisture. However, I am often frugal and spent the day seeking discarded desiccant packets instead. At the end of the day I tossed my scavengings on the barracks floor in a triumphant manner, sure I’d come up with a masterful solution. Yes, they make an uncomfortable carpet. They are just slightly better than Lego’s, but make the same disturbing crunching sound as millipedes when trod upon without the added moisture of bug guts. It is still unsettling to wake up in a dark room and set foot on them and in sleep induced forgetfulness, jolt yourself into full wakefulness well before your alarm goes off thinking you just stepped into a writhing ball of mating bugs intent on sucking the very water out of your body. Better than coffee.
Still, I found myself running a little short on these dime baggies of silica granules and was only able to cover the space around the edges of my bed. I am something like 90% water, I think. If these legged tormentors are partial to moisture, I wanted to make sure they didn’t want to get intimate with me as I slept. I would need a better plan if I were to construct adequate defenses.
After physical training, I decided to import spiders to combat my new nemesis. But what spiders to pick? I settled on these little black ones based on the logic that if flamingos turn pink from eating shrimp, these spiders must be black from eating millipedes. They were woefully inadequate for the task at hand. They just slide around on the glossy floor like retarded crabs on ice. I suppose it could be that they are Korean spiders and simply do not grasp English well, if at all.
The solution presented itself to me yesterday and I didn’t even realize it until this morning. Outside the barracks there is a wooden box with “Salt for Ice” stenciled on it. I naturally thought this was a great trade. A bag of ice can cost up to what? Two bucks? A container of salt is just mere cents. Quite happy at my find, I ran back to my room and secured the unneeded little salt shaker that came with the needed pepper shaker. I went to make the trade only to find that the box was already filled with salt. So much for stumbling upon a well-kept secret. Then again it could have been a simple matter of the verbiage being lost in translation. Things are worded differently in Korea and they may well have intended it to read “Ice for Salt”. Which seems like a terrible trade to me, but who am I to judge?
Then it dawned on me. Salt is a desiccant as well! I could simply form a barrier to my living quarters like the guys on Supernatural do. I can form a line from one doorpost to the other and another on my window sill. Which leads me to a conclusion on the demonic nature of millipedes and confirms the fact that they are in this building pursuant to a nearby exorcism. Their interest in water makes perfect sense to me now as I am sure that any number of hell’s minions might appreciate water a great deal.
The millipede problem may be solved. Only time will tell. I now have a bevy of missing arachnids in my room who are probably angry at my expressions of mirth when initially watching them fail to gain traction on the floor. Moral of the story: Don’t laugh at foreigners who don’t walk well. They aren’t stupid and probably speak more of your language than you of theirs. Also, millipedes are just tiny Dybbuk.