Friday, November 26, 2010

Spiders. I just don't like them.

I don't like spiders. I'm not as afraid of them as I used to be but I think it's safe to say I'll never be keeping one as a pet. In fact, I know it's safe to say. I will never keep a spider as a pet. There. It's in writing. I'm that confident. So here's a look at how last week started according to my Facebook statuses:

Monday at 10.14pm: "I will tolerate you, Mr. Spider, but I kindly request that you relocate from your current position above my computer chair. Your co-operation would be greatly appreciated."

(The spider did relocate from its position above my computer chair, which was nice, except that now I don't know where it is. It might be one of the other spiders I saw after that, or it might be A COMPLETELY FUCKING DIFFERENT ONE AND IT IS JUST MISSING INSTEAD OF GONE.)

Tuesday at 9.20am: "A spider is not faster than a cat."

(It may be the previous spider that was killed by my cat who heroically defended me when it came to murder me in my sleep, or it may have been a different spider that was coming to murder me in my sleep. Also, as it turns out, a dragonfly is not faster than a cat either, but I'm pretty sure the dragonfly wasn't out to murder anyone.)

Tuesday at 6.07pm: "I just fought a spider for my mail only to find it was nothing but election propaganda. Fuck you state government. Totally not worth it."

(I now approach my mailbox with my heart in my mouth, ready to drop the door in less than a second if necessary).

Tuesday at 10.35pm: "Another one? You've got to be fucking kidding me. Fine. I give up. You win, spiders. Have the house."

(There was some suggestion of burning the house down. I considered it).

Thursday at 8.45am: "Good news - no spiders yesterday. Bad news - I'm almost definitely dying."

So I didn't die, which is great I think, but I was hit with the horrifying realisation that just because I haven't seen the spiders lately does not mean that they're not there. It's nice to think that they just decided to move next door instead - possibly because they knew they were unwelcome in my house and were far too polite to stay somewhere they weren't wanted - but it's more likely they are simply hiding somewhere, probably waiting for the best possible moment to jump out and cling to my face like the facehuggers in Aliens except they'd be holding on with their fangs instead of with tentacles.

I might go buy some kerosene and matches.

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