I was reading a blog post of a friend of mine and laughter came over me. Not that I was laughing at the post (it was funny), but I was laughing at what I had done a couple of days earlier.
I had laid back in my Lazyboy and tuned the TV to Fox News Channel to catch up on the news of the day when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something crawling on my wall. Normally when I see something on my wall, it is a spider. I don't mind spiders, and am not afraid of them, but I refuse to share my living space with them. I figure the great outdoors is big enough for them to find a nice a place to live.
Anyway, I looked at the critter on the wall and realized it was a centipede. My first thought was, where did this creature come from. My second thought was "get a photo" (after all, I love nature photography). Well, I don't like unnatural images, so I figured I would capture the bug, take him outside, release him in an apple tree in the back and take its picture there.
So I got paper towel, and after a bit of an adventure, I finally got the critter on the towel, folded it in such a way to keep the centipede inside and grabbed my camera. As I moved past my bed (I live in a small studio style apartment) with camera in hand, I felt something on my hand which held the paper towel containing the bug.
A bit of background here is needed. When I was stationed in The Philippines, I found a large centipede on the keyboard of my office computer. I picked it up thinking to toss it outside and when I did, it bit me...and the bite hurt. Then the bite swelled and remained slightly puffy for several days before things got back to normal.
Back to the present and the paper towel.
As soon as I felt whatever it was on my hand, I flashed to the biting centipede in The Philippines and flicked my hand up and away, thinking the centipede had gotten out. I then looked around the area where whatever was on my hand would have landed and saw nothing. Confused about what was on my hand, I tucked my camera under my left arm (my right hand held the towel) and slowly unfolded the paper towel to see if the centipede was still there.
After undoing the third fold, something dark and long came flying out of the towel. It was a blur as it traveled up my left forearm towards my shoulder and parts elsewhere on my body. And I knew what it was...it was the centipede! I again flashed back to the biting centipede in The Philippines and flicked my arm to get the bug off it. Unfortunately, I forgot about my camera.
As soon as my arm moved, I remembered the camera, lifted my left leg, which caught the camera...momentarily...and swung my leg in such a way as to get the camera to fall on the bed. But I wasn't quite nimble enough. I did catch the camera, and I did deflect fall, but it hit the side of the bed and fell heavily onto my right foot. When I am in the house, I wear moccasin style slippers exclusively. They are comfortable to me for wearing but provide very little protection from falling objects, which includes a Canon Digital Rebel with vertical grip and 70-300mm image stabilized telephoto lens.
Seeing the camera now sliding off the corner of the mattress on the bed, headed towards the floor and my exposed foot, I quickly reached down and grabbed the strap, but was a little too late. There was enough slack in the strap for the camera to land squarely on the ridge of the foot, just as I was able to lift it out of the way. And it hurt.
Fearing I would do more damage to either my camera or myself or both, I froze and watched the camera come up and land squarely on the bed and stop there. With the camera safely on the bed, I looked down at my foot, lifted it and rubbed the ridge of it against the calf of my left leg. Pissed at what had just too place, I began to sit down when I remember the centipede.
Bolting back to a standing position while at the same time release my hold on my camera strap, I looked down on my arm and saw nothing. You see, what I described above took about two or three seconds to happen and the centipede should have still been on my arm. Again, I scanned the area the creature would have, or should have landed had the flick of my arm worked to dislodge him, but it wasn't there.
I then began to look elsewhere for the centipede...behind books, under the chest of drawers, behind the TV, on the Lazyboy, on the walls...all to no avail. The centipede was nowhere to be found.
It's been almost two days since all this took place. I have yet to see the centipede again. But I figure being caged inside a paper towel and flicked off a human arm to parts unknown, it decided that life in the world of humans isn't worth the exposure and has gone underground...hopefully there to remain.
But I still don't know what it was on my hand to cause me to flick the first time bringing about the chain of events described above...and probably never will.
As for the camera, it's none the worse for wear, or dropping in this case.